Le Monde des Sorciers
by civilwarrose
Summary: Enchantress Agathe is in prison for her redemptive curses on Prince Adam and Gaston. A rebellious wizard named Marcel is jailed along with her. Adelaide, an ordinary maid, and her wizard friend Aloysius, hope to rescue them in a Magical society turned cruel. Crossover references to a historical 'Harry Potter' AU. Cast of OC's.
1. Prison

Chapter 1- Prison

…

_Paris, France, circa 1770's_

_La Maison pour Crimes Noirs, _the official Magical government prison, was secreted beneath Paris in an underground bunker. Cell blocks formed of glass were stacked in rows four stories high. The blocks were guarded by not only wizard guards, but by magical creatures- giant black cats with large, glowing blue eyes, enormous centipedes, and other beasts which prowled the halls and swam in the central moat.

A tall man, fair-haired with a golden beard and a black cloak, strode along the cell block hallway. He shot electrical sparks at the leaping cats and giant centipedes with his wand as they tried to approach him. The creatures let out strange, otherworldly cries as they were subdued.

Alexis Xavier Sauvageon was a member of the Magical government police, working for the recently appointed French minister, Bartholomé Bertrand. He was there to survey his two latest prisoners, as well as to gloat in triumph.

The first prisoner he approached was his own aunt, his father's sister. Agathe Ophelie Sauvageon. Inmate Number 247. She was the talk of Magical France over the last year or so, having cast what was both praised and scorned as 'the most outrageous curse of the century' on a _Sans-Magie_ prince, his castle, and 'all who lived there.' Her curse had been broken, due to a young woman's true love for a hideous, large horned Beast.

Her true age was forty-six, but she tended to change her appearance back and forth to that of a lovely young blonde or an elderly, impoverished hag- rarely her true age and station. Currently, she was in her youngest form, but her despair over being caught and confined caused her face to pale and dark circles to form under her eyes. Her long golden hair hung limp.

Sauvageon approached the cell where she sat on a straw cot, his gaze triumphant. "Bonjour, Aunt Agathe," he said to her in derision.

"Good evening, Alexis," she said quietly. "Have you seen your father lately?"

"Yes, and he has disowned you from our family. It's disgusting how you have meddled with _Sans-Magies_ in such an arrogant way. Giving them complete awareness of our powers, and our world. And not only you, but your _friend_ here."

Sauvageon gestured with his arm to the young man confined in the glass cell next to Agathe's. He was ignoring their conversation, quietly writing on a small pad of paper with a quill.

Sauvageon's former underling spy, Marcel Clement, was Inmate Number 248 and the newest arrival to the prison. He had been Sauvageon's loyal worker only a few weeks before, having gone undercover with him investigating Agathe's latest crimes. The officer had been thankful for his help in apprehending Agathe. He'd planned to give him a promotion to deputy investigator, even offering to fund his further training.

But that was no longer. Marcel had betrayed him, with lawless use of magic of his own! He'd just exposed his powers like a foolish charlatan in front of an entire Prince's court of _Sans_-_Magies_. Sauvageon had no choice but to lock him up.

He took a few steps forward to the glass cell and leaned down, seeking eye contact with the man. "_Clement_!" he exclaimed. "Do you have anything to say to me?"

Marcel kept his eyes down on the pad of paper. "There's a werewolf behind you, Monsieur," he said softly.

"I _know_ that," Sauvageon said through his teeth, wanting to send a shock-curse on the wolf-man but resisting the urge. As an officer, he had a reputation to uphold.

Sauvageon was perfectly aware of the presence of one Robert Lefebvre, Inmate Number 213, a burly and muscular man who occupied the cell across from that of Marcel and Agathe. The man was now known simply as 'LeLoup.' His hair and beard had grown long and matted, and he resembled the beast who had bitten him, years before.

LeLoup was an inmate for three years now, as well as the jailers' constant headache. Whenever a full moon came over Paris, LeLoup in his creature form had the ability to attain such great physical strength to break open the thick glass of his cell wall. No matter what charms the jailers cast over him, no matter what body-binds or torture they could set upon LeLoup to weaken him, he always broke free at his transformation. He had bitten two jailers to date, as well as three inmates, causing them to be werewolves.

Presently, Sauvageon resisted the urge to turn around and look at LeLoup. He was quiet, likely sleeping. It would be five days until the moon was set to be full. The thought came in his mind that perhaps he should have Agathe and Marcel moved to the very top floor rather than the bottom. They were troublesome enough as they were; he didn't care for them to become a werewolf and _she_-werewolf on top of it.

Sauvageon gestured to the paper Marcel was writing on. "And what is this?"

"Nothing." Marcel hid the pad of paper behind his open-buttoned waistcoat.

Sauvageon, a _Lecteur d'Esprit, _or mind reader, pointed his wand at Marcel's forehead. He studied the man's pleasant face, watching his expression tense and his eyes close. Thought-words in the other's voice entered Sauvageon's mind.

'_He won't take away my words, even if he burns my diary, they're still in my mind-_'

"Ah, you're fighting me, aren't you, _mon __garçon_?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"Stop it!" Agathe commanded her captor. "If you're going to mind-read and torture anyone, do it to _me_, not the boy."

"Why? I know you can resist it," said Sauvageon. A smirk came over his face as he flicked his wand at Marcel and caused the small diary tucked in his waistcoat to fly into the air and catch aflame, turning to ash. A few flames and burnt embers licked Marcel's hand, causing him to wince with the pain of a burn.

"You are nothing but a common bully! A henchman for Bertrand," said Agathe.

"And you are nothing but a _has-been,_ Aunt Agathe!" Sauvageon hissed. "You have had your name in the papers and have been the talk of Paris for too long, and now you can rot here. _Adieu_ to you both. I am off to one of Monsieur Bertrand's society functions, where I will get my honors for catching the criminal of the century."

"You forgot I helped?" Marcel said, turning his gaze up to the tall man on the other side of the pane of glass.

"You are irrelevant now," said the officer with a glare.

"I doubt they think of me as a criminal of the century," said Agathe. "I performed a foolish spell, that was all, and it was broken by the love of a girl, for a Beast. That hardly puts me in the ranks of the great dark Enchanters."

"Quit your false humility, Agathe," Sauvageon said with derision as he walked away, leaving their cell block.

All he had needed at the moment was seeing them there, where they belonged. His relative, with her 'Beast' curse discussed with enthusiasm at parlors, wizards' watering holes, and witches' sewing circles, would be but a by-word in the Magical history of the age soon.

He himself hoped to rise in the ranks until he became the right-hand man of the minister, Bartholomé Bertrand himself. He and his associates would bring forth a new order of law against _Sans-Magies_, Magicals born to _Sans-Magie_ parents, and Defectives. The laws were becoming stricter, and the lines between both societies would be more defined until they were certain who the haves and have-nots were.

_Aunt Agathe had a clever idea indeed,_ he thought to himself. Why didn't they think of it earlier? Simply using powerful curses of magic to punish those inferior people- just like that selfish Prince turned into a beast creature- would bring forth a new utopia. _Some lives may be lost, but it will be for the best, _Sauvageon thought. When he reached the end of the cell blocks, he threw his pinch of enchanted dust into a large copper pot on the floor. When he stepped into it, one black leather boot before the other, it immediately whisked him up to the busy streets of Paris.

…

A gigantic, four-foot-long centipede with bristle-legs felt free to crawl over the front doors of both Agathe's and Marcel's glass enclosures once the officer was gone. Its sickly grey underbelly and pincer-mouth was exposed as it slithered across their new home, looking like a thick snake with an unsightly hairy multitude of appendages.

"Dear God, I hate those things," said Marcel, turning his gaze from the creature and trying to relieve the pain of his blistered knuckle by sucking on it.

"I'm sorry you were hurt by him again."

"I wanted him to burn that diary before he read it. If he'd read it…" He sighed.

Agathe's tone towards him was kind as always. She still wanted to make amends with her prison neighbor and have all be forgiven, but the fact remained that Agathe had once transformed Marcel's innocent sister into a feather duster. She'd nearly died when Prince Adam's life ebbed away, that cruel Enchanted Rose having lost its petals.

Over the last several days, though, the two had begun to forge an unlikely alliance, if not actually friends.

"Perhaps a good thing he burned it then? Clever of you," she complimented.

"Thank you. And I'll be fine," Marcel muttered.

Agathe noticed the young man trying to hide his despair with a neutral and indifferent expression, gazing at the inmate across the hallway from them. Agathe had known Marcel's mother in Paris. Sabine, her name was, a talented African potions enchantress. The woman must be devastated knowing her son was here.

"I see Monsieur LeLoup is awakening," said Agathe, following his gaze.

"We ought to keep ignoring him. The more attention we pay to him, the more reason he will pay attention to us. And then he'll have us in mind, _when the moon happens_," Marcel said in a whisper.

"I disagree. I think we should engage him. Befriend him. He's just a man still, suffering from a bite. He can't help his transformations."

"Mademoiselle Agathe, he might not be able to help it, but I don't know...I haven't _seen_ what it's like once he does. Uh...have you?" he asked her nervously.

"_Oui,_ Marcel dear, I've seen it. The poor man," said Agathe in sympathy. "He began to crack his cell wall open the last time he transformed into an enormous wolf. The guards were ready for him. They must have set at least a hundred torture and lightning-shock curses on him!"

"If I were a guard here, I would have done the same," Marcel whispered.

"It was beyond cruel and brutal!" said Agathe, shooting him an indignant look. "The sounds of pain he made. And the other werewolves above me made such a fuss, howling and screaming! He is their leader, now. I'm afraid that next time the guards might just _kill _LeLoup. Execute him without trial."

Marcel looked across the hall at the big man, now sitting up and rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"Lightning-shock curses?" he whispered to Agathe. "I'm impressed at his strength having survived that! Still not looking forward to his next transformation. I only hope _our_ walls are well protected," he added.

Agathe and Marcel watched as LeLoup stretched his burly arms, yawning and making a show of licking his lips and gnashing his teeth. He looked across the hall at Agathe and Marcel and grinned, his long brown locks hanging and partly obscuring his broad, bearded face.

"_Bonjour! _Good day, my fine neighbors!" he said cheerily.

"Good day, Monsieur LeLoup," said Agathe. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry!" he growled. The werewolf was showing some surprising friendliness to them now.

Ever since Marcel had arrived, he'd only experienced threatening rants from LeLoup about how he was going to sink his fangs into his and Agathe's throats and mark them as his wolf-kin, with his trio of goons howling and laughing from the cell floor above. This had been the case for nearly a week now. So to be perfectly honest, a 'good day' welcome from someone like LeLoup was promising.

One of the giant centipedes crawled on LeLoup's enclosure; they watched him swipe at it and stick out his tongue. Marcel cringed at the sight, though he wouldn't mind if those creatures could be devoured.

"I'm getting very bored, Mademoiselle and Monsieur," said the werewolf. "This porridge gruel they give us is quite lacking in protein, don't you agree? I need meat, _baaaadly_." LeLoup bared his rotting teeth, the incisors notably pointed.

"Perhaps you can ask the jailer for something different. A few of them seem kind enough," Agathe said, deciding to make conversation.

"Oh for God's _sake_, Agathe!" Marcel whispered.

"He _speaks!_ Hello, Monsieur Pretty Boy!" LeLoup cackled, his throat hoarse from just awakening. "You're still new, after a while you might not look as pretty. I never quite caught your name."

"Clement," Marcel said quietly, bowing his head in an attempt at politeness.

"Is that your last or first name? I once knew a Clement Duchamp. Hated him, arrogant ass. Should have sought him out to bite before I was sent here."

"It's my last name. I, uh…I was mentioned and pictured in the Paris newspapers a few times, years back. I _was_ a star athlete for a while."

Marcel became more bold, caught up for a moment in fond memories and grasping for _anything_ that might elevate himself in the werewolf's favor. "For my Académie when I was a boy. The team _Étoiles B__leu,_ and then for the _Faucons de Paris_ for almost three years, until I had to quit due to-"

"_Faucons_? The _Faucons de Paris_?" LeLoup spluttered. "You were on the team?"

"Yes, back in 1767 through 69."

"Is that so?" LeLoup's face lit in fond memory. "I was at a game with my old girl, back in '68, the _Faucons_ played against _Les Ouragans de Lyon,_ and won two hundred points to forty! They were master formation flyers, it was like art in the skies! One boy made the winning catch and the entire stadium went wild! The boy was named Marcel something-"

"That was me." Marcel smiled bashfully at the big man.

"It was _you_? I want your autograph, _mon garçon_! I have been a true-blue _Faucons_ fan my entire life. At least-" LeLoup frowned- "until I was afflicted, and imprisoned for what I did under the full moon. Which was bite, maim, and infect a total of twenty-two people so far. Including my three friends whose cells are above you."

Agathe smiled sadly as she listened to his confession. She knew that it helped to get along with the other inmates, particularly if this inmate might possibly break through the glass in five days and devour them.

"_Merci." _said Marcel, his spirits lifted a bit. "I'd like to write one for you, though I hardly feel as if I'm famous! I only played for a few years, but coaches and team owners are fickle. Once I went too many games without making enough good catches, my career was over before I was twenty and I had to go back to driving carriages for a living. Oh well, _c'est la vie_."

"But you still have the memories, _mon ami._ And now...my lady," LeLoup said, grinning hungrily at Agathe. "From what I recall, when you arrived some time back there was a buzzing of rumors going around that you were that 'Beast' Enchantress. I doubt that is true. I don't even _believe_ that 'Beast Prince' story. It sounds like nothing but a _Sans-Magie_ crock of foul stinking _merde,_ some fairy tale legend. Tell me, Mademoiselle, what are you _really_ in for?"

Agathe shrugged. "Misuse of magic. The same as he is."

"_Dark_ magic?" LeLoup asked.

She sighed. "_Oui_, some of it may have been dark. I used pain curses on a man."

"You did?" He grinned in a rather creepy way. "I _like_ ladies who can torture."

Agathe narrowed her eyes at him. "I was feeling sorry for you last time, but if you try _anything_ with me, or this fellow next to me, I have no other option but to use it, _sans-_wand."

"But the two of you would be so _good_ as my werewolf-kin," LeLoup replied, licking his chops.

"Monsieur LeLoup, when you are under, um...the full moon, do you have any _control_ over what you do?" asked Marcel. "Or do you just...wake up and not realize that you've maimed and infected people the night before?"

The bearded man's face fell. "I can _never_ control or know what I'm doing. I am conscious, but it is like an animal's consciousness. The last times...I remember the pain. The guards attacking me. With their lightning shocks. Nothing but the _pain_."

"Do you think you could try breaking out?" Marcel asked.

"Breaking out? I try every time I transform! I've broken this cell countless times and that is how I have my kin! _Rousseau! Bouchard! DuMarre!_ Where are you this evening, you worthless pups! Speak up!"

"We are here, LeLoup! What is your request?" a gruff male voice came from somewhere above the ceiling of Agathe's cell.

"No request. I cannot see you, but I want to _hear_ you, brothers!"

The men upstairs began to howl and emit canine barks, echoing through the chambers. The noise greatly disturbed the other inmates around them, including Marcel and Agathe. The giant black cats began to run down the hallway, sounding out their own hissing vocalizations.

Soon the footsteps of guards sounded in the floor above; their angry voices shouting. With a few strikes of wands and yelps of pain, the three werewolves upstairs were chastised.

"They are such _stupid_ men," said LeLoup. "I would rather have you as company now, Mademoiselle. I'd like to get to know you better."

"I suppose wouldn't mind getting to know you," replied Agathe. "As a _friend_."

"Ahh, did you expect more?" LeLoup fixed Agathe with a toothy smile. "You could only hope."

"I highly doubt that," she replied. "I'm much older than you think. If I weren't here, I would show you that I can change my appearance to be older or younger. I now wish I was in my elderly-crone form, to tell you the truth."

"I would like that as well," Marcel mumbled. "Less embarrassing for me. I'd think of you as a _grandmere_."

"I trust that you don't look at me when I need privacy, dear. I do the same for you," Agathe told him softly.

"I don't. I _assure _you," Marcel said in a chagrined whisper.

"But _I_ do!" LeLoup cackled. "I've enjoyed seeing both of you! Pleasant human bodies to look at, though Mademoiselle- you are much too pale and thin for my taste. And Monsieur, you as well. You aren't pale, but you need more manly _muscles_ to match your assets, _ha-ha!_ But for all purposes, my neighbors- you are feasts for my eyes in this lonely place. I go _both _ways, if you know what I mean!"

"You mentioned you had a girl once," Marcel said, after overcoming his utter mortification. This was a literal personal hell, being confined to glass walls where he and Agathe were seen every moment of the day by someone else. The only comfort in this prison was the fact that the guards used their wands to give the inmates clean warm-water showers. But it came at a price- the utter humiliation of being forced to strip naked inside transparent chambers.

"I did have a girl- before I was bitten. She left me. She was _afraid_," LeLoup said, his demeanor quickly switching from manic to sorrowful. He made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a sob. "_No_ _one_ loves a man doomed to become a monster one night of the month! One who would sink his jaws into her throat. I'm forever _doomed_!"

"To tell the truth," Agathe said, trying to console the man with logic, "I knew a woman who loved a monster. It is the reason she broke my powerful spell," said Agathe.

LeLoup barked a scoffing laugh. "I can see you're still a very _humble_ woman who never boasts!"

"It is true, Monsieur LeLoup." Marcel interjected. "Agathe is not a woman to be trifled with...plus she turned my sister into a feather duster shaped like a white bird," he added softly, biting on his blistered finger.

LeLoup shook his head in mirth. "Ha! I still find that hard to believe, those rumors. What sort of spell was this, that turned that prince to a beast?" LeLoup asked in a challenging tone, crossing his arms.

"It was a spell that I learned from a book my father owned when I was a schoolgirl. It wasn't allowed in the Académie curriculum because it bordered on dark spells," Agathe told him. "It was more a..._complex_ series of spells, not just one."

"_Really_?" Marcel said, his expression perking up with intrigue. "What kind of a series of spells?"

Agathe glanced at him, then back at LeLoup, hoping to convince him that what she was infamous for in _Le Monde des Sorciers_ was actually true.

"The curse I performed which turned that young Prince into a creature...was something in my father's old book of magic called '_L'Intérieur Dehors.' _A spell which could be either a charm or a curse. It causes a person's true inner self- his ego and motivations- to show on the _outside_ of him. It is truly amusing when one thinks about it. This prince, living in a luxurious castle, was my victim. He was spoiled, selfish and unkind, living a life of greed and indulgence. I remember the look on his face- sneering at me in my disguise as an old beggar hag, through a coat of ridiculous court makeup he wore for one of his masquerade balls. I had no idea what would manifest when I turned it on him. I was quite surprised. And a bit horrified - it turned out to be very brutal and painful for him. The end result was shocking."

"So it _was_ a dark deed," Marcel said. "And you have no regrets about having done this?"

"Not any longer," said Agathe. "Not after the girl claimed her love for him and after he was humbled in spirit. He became the caring and loving man he always had the potential to be."

"A girl loved a _monster_?" LeLoup scoffed again. "What did the Prince look like 'on the outside' after you were through with him?"

"He was very tall, very large. Covered with fur, but he resembled a bison more than a bear. With two long horns on his head, rather like a ram's," said Agathe.

"The girl must have been out of her mind!" LeLoup snarled.

"I _met_ her!" Marcel cut in. "She actually seemed very nice and normal. They ended up getting married, you know." He glanced over at LeLoup. "_You_ might even find someone someday. Just have hope."

LeLoup tilted his head rather comically, giving Marcel a leering grin again. "What if that someone is _you,_ my angel-faced _Faucons _star player?"

"_Don't_ push it!" exclaimed Marcel in indignation.

"I'd _love_ to taste that milk chocolate colored skin of yours, when the moon is full…"

"Do you want me to freeze your oversized testicles solid? '_Geler'_ is my best Offensive! I can perform it wandless!" Marcel yelled in exasperation.

"_Oversized_, you say?" LeLoup's large body shook in self-indulgent laughter. He was joined by Rousseau, Bouchard and DuMarre up above, chuckling at their leader- though not quite so loud as to incite the guards.

"_Boys!_" Agathe scolded. "The guards will be alerted, and they will _Bouche de Colle _us. And with that annoying sniffling nose of yours, Monsieur LeLoup, you might suffocate to death if you can't breathe through your mouth."

"I wouldn't mind if they seal his mouth closed for a few years_. _Or _forever_," said Marcel.

"Dear, remember what we want to do regarding our _ami_ here?" Agathe said quietly through her clenched teeth. "The moon is in _five days._"

Marcel closed his eyes with tension, and glanced back over at LeLoup, giving him a friendly wave. "I'll write you my 'autograph' as soon as I can, Monsieur. I'm glad you came to my winning game that day. My _good friend_," he added with a soft smile.

"_Merci._ You know I was only teasing. If you do cast '_Geler'_ on my sensitive parts, I honestly won't mind," LeLoup said to him, giving him a goofy grin.

Marcel nodded politely. He turned back to Agathe, eager to change the subject to one that concerned him, rather than that of Monsieur LeLoup's testicles.

"Agathe, can you tell me _more _about the spells that you cast on Prince Adam? Why was it that _everyone_ who had known the Prince and his staff- including me- our minds were erased regarding them? I went for _years_ having lost touch with my sister, because you altered my memory of her!"

"You were the last person I wanted to be aware of it. In fact, you were the one whose memory I erased first. I knew that if you hadn't seen your sister for a long time, you would use your own Magic Mirror to search for her. I couldn't have just _anyone_ coming to that castle. Especially my fellow Enchanteds."

"Why not?" Marcel demanded. "You _cursed_ a man and all of his servants, then made it so they're all _impossible_ to find! Until Belle and her father came around, which was only by _chance_!"

"They were the ones I chose. Well the girl in particular. Belle. I strongly suspected she could be the one to earn the Beast's love, and to care for him in return. Years had gone by. I had to finally take action, or the spell would go on until he met his doom. So...I was able to pull a few tricks to direct her father Maurice to the castle. And then Belle came looking for him there."

"Tricks using vicious _wolves_," Marcel said accusingly.

"True," Agathe replied in a quiet voice.

Marcel sighed, putting his hands on his forehead with exasperation.

"I keep _wanting_ to like you, Agathe. I really do. I've forgiven you for what you did to my sister, at least a factual forgiveness. Just because she's doing well now. But the more I learn about every spell you've cast, the more I know that you _deserve_ to be locked up here. And that makes me _not_ regret working for Sauvageon."

He waited for her to answer him. To argue and defend her case, as she was apt to do. But instead, moments went by. A minute- five minutes. No comment.

Agathe had turned away from him, resting on her cot. She had gone silent and aloof. Marcel felt uncomfortable again. _Lonely._

As long as he was conversing and socializing with Agathe or LeLoup- hell, even being tortured by Sauvageon- he could forget. Agathe remained stone-faced and stubborn, no longer debating with him. Perhaps guilty, or merely tired.

LeLoup lazily lounged on his cot at present, playing with the drawstring of his worn-out shirt collar, chewing on the end of it like a salivating canine. Marcel didn't feel like talking to him at the moment. Perhaps later, if he became desperate enough for somewhat-human interaction.

Nonetheless, with their lively conversation over, Marcel was left alone with his thoughts. So of course that meant that _she_ returned to his mind and heart.

Adelaide Fortier.

She was back working for a nobleman's family, performing her lady's maid duties, Marcel was certain. He remembered how it felt to embrace her and hold her close, when she'd believed her pet kitten had drowned. He _had_ to use magic then, to make her happy. When she'd been happy, she had such a sweet smile and laugh; dimples on the corners of her mouth, and such innocence for a woman about his own age. He recalled her soft form in her pink cotton dress. The freckles on her fair forearms, cradling the little cat he'd given her.

Marcel never told Adelaide that her kitten, Lorette, was actually once a bark-beetle. He'd performed an Animal Transformation Charm without her noticing.

Her laughter had been infectious and warm. So different from all of those arrogant, sophisticated witch girls from the _Académie._

Marcel and Adelaide had talked only about simple things during their days together as they traveled from Paris to Alsace, riding on the buckboard of the coach he was driving. Her family. His sister Plumette, the castle they were heading to where his sister was a maid. Music and festivals. Pets and animals. It felt good to talk and think about things that had nothing to do with the threat of an Enchanted War.

He wanted to tell her he grew up caring for colorful, fluffy _Peluche Balle_ pets- but didn't know how to explain them to her. But he did dare to tell her about his love for his favorite sport. She loved the idea of it when he described the game. They'd even joked about flying over Paris on a broom together.

He knew that eventually, Adelaide would forget about that brief time she spent with an Enchanted man. She would find a good, hard working _Sans-Magie_ man. She'd marry, have a few _Sans-Magie_ children. It was how it _should_ be.

He tried not to cry, but it was difficult.

...

_A.N.- Back with a new story spinning off of 'Exile!' If you have never read Exile, which was a Gaston redemption fic, I am writing this so that the OC characters are as well introduced as I can. After a lot of thought and discussing with my beta friend, I decided not to make this an actual crossover with Harry Potter. There are no HP characters here, it takes place in the 18th century, and I don't want to be limited to the changing rules of JK Rowling's books and movies. I give JK Rowling credit for some of the 'world' ideas I have borrowed. This takes place in a 'Potterverse-like' world, sharing canon with 'Disney Princess movie' magic. -Civilwarrose_


	2. L'Hotel de Brumagne

Chapter 2- L'Hotel de Brumagne

…

Adelaide ran the mop over the corner of the floor for the third time before she finally rinsed it in the pail, then carried the dirty water out to dump it. Her hands felt gritty, her dress and apron was splashed with water, but she was relieved to be done with the afternoon's chores.

She washed her hands in a basin and then went upstairs to the tiny, plain room she was now occupying in the hotel, next to that of her coworker and friend Monsieur Aloysius Guérisseur. Originally, Aloysius had promised her a 'nicer' room to stay in- but it turned out he was allergic to cat hair, something that made the Enchanted wizard seem just as normal and human to Adelaide as anyone. So, she had taken a neighboring flat in exchange for maid work.

Aloysius was just exiting his door while she was heading to hers. "Bonjour, Adelaide! Finished with your cleaning shift for the day?" he asked, his kind eyes crinkling in fondness for the young woman.

"Oui, Monsieur Aloysius! I'm exhausted, so I might go lie down with my cat for a while," Adelaide replied.

"Ah, good. I'm working the concierge desk this evening, and then perhaps you and I can meet in my room and talk?"

"Sure, Monsieur! I'd like that," Adelaide replied eagerly.

"How are things here going for you?" he asked.

"I know I'm slower than most of the other maids," Adelaide confessed with a sigh, wiping her brow beneath her white bonnet. "This job's a lot harder than I expected. I'm having second thoughts, now."

"I know you must miss your sister," Aloysius said.

"I do- but she's off with her husband, starting her new married life. It won't be the same if I stayed on staff at the Marquis' place. I wonder if maybe she'd be interested in working here? Then we'd be together again."

Aloysius laughed a little. "You know Emilie's husband. His pride would not allow for her to work away from him."

Adelaide nodded. "Very true! I'll talk to you later, Aloysius. Is-" she lowered her voice to a whisper- "is there any chance you might use your powers again soon? Is it safe here- to do it?"

"I might. I have ways to keep my activity hidden."

"I'd like to see it," she replied eagerly.

"I want to give you the items we talked about. To store them in your room and keep them safe," Aloysius said. "One moment, _si vous plait._"

He ducked into his own door for a moment, and came out with a copper bowl- a very horrible-smelling bowl of something repugnant. When Adelaide peeked into what looked like a decently nice cake-batter mixing bowl, it was filled with squirming fly larvae covering something dead and rotten.

"I'm growing and raising the fly maggots. If you could keep them in your room, dear, it would definitely help me."

She recoiled. "Why...can't you keep them?"

"It would be very obvious to Toulouse if he happens to stop over to my place. He's...also one, you see."

"Toulouse is?" Adelaide exclaimed. "The bellboy?"

"_Oui._ You would have never guessed him, would you?"

"No." She shook her head. "No Magical I've ever met so far has ever been a person I could've guessed. It's really amazing how you all look so normal."

The man grinned. "We are just as human as you, dear. Now, If you raise the larvae, everyone can just suspect you aren't capable of keeping your own room clean when people walk by your door and smell it."

"I'm sure they'll believe that, considering how incompetent the head maid thinks I am," Adelaide mumbled as she reluctantly reached out to take the bowl filled with squirming putrid things. She entered her room and set it on a table near the bed, then decided to push the table as far from her bed as she could, the legs scratching against the hardwood floor.

"How long am I raising these lovely creatures?" she asked Aloysius as the man lingered in the doorway.

"Just a few days. Then we'll have a good amount of both flies and larvae. Sometime next week, would you mind taking a trip to the river to collect another item?"

"What item?" she asked, cringing.

"You'll see, mademoiselle," said Aloysius. "It will be an adventure, and you said you wanted to see some adventure, so…" He raised his eyebrows in a way that made her nervous.

"All right- I will," Adelaide said, gulping a little. "I guess this means I'm in your plan all the way, with...this." She put her hand over her nose at the smell coming from the bowl, while rummaging on the shabby dresser for a cleaning cloth. She picked up the cloth and covered the bowl with it.

"Non, dear. I'm sorry, but you can't cover them up. They need air. You'll kill them." Aloysius took the cloth off the bowl and handed it to her. She refused to take it after it had touched the inside.

"Are you sure you need this as an ingredient?"

"Oui. It is one of the most important elements, and I must have plenty of generations of these flies on hand. In case my first attempt at the potion fails."

"I see. What kind of potion is it?"

"You'll see eventually."

"Do I have to drink it?" she asked, feeling a bit nauseated as the smell permeated her little room.

"No, of course not. I have to be the one to drink it."

"So- it sounds like I just help you by raising flies, and going somewhere to collect another potion ingredient? That doesn't seem too scary," Adelaide said, relief coming over her.

"Yes, for now that's all I need from you."

"Have you heard anything from them, or about them? Agathe and Marcel? I know there's no way you can communicate with them, but has there been any news? Do they have a chance to undergo a fair trial, or anything? Any way they can be let go?"

"The bad news is that I don't think our new Minister believes in 'fair trials.' Once he and his officers find Enchanters who break exposure laws, in they go! It's just a dumping place now. There used to be trials held only a few months back, but now that man Bertrand has unleashed his tyranny."

Adelaide's face fell. "So there's no hope."

"There is hope," Aloysius said. "I have newspapers that I can show you later. It will help you learn a little more about what our society is like. And once you learn, you'll realize why I keep moving from place to place, doing all these common, low level odd jobs."

"You're a jack of all trades, that's a good thing."

"It is, isn't it? Well, Adelaide- I must be going back to the main lobby and hobnob with travelers and customers at the concierge station. Have some rest." He nodded politely and left her alone.

Adelaide shut the door of her shabby little boarding room, made available for some of the 'help.' The accommodations on her new job were more private then her old one at the nobleman's estate. There, she'd shared a bunk room with her sister Emilie and Madame Chambon, the kitchen maid. She'd tried to make this room homey with things she'd brought from the estate, but it was still shabby compared to the opulence of the rest of the grand hotel.

"Lorette, are you hiding from me?" She glanced around the room, looking for her cat, who soon crept out from under the bed with a mouse in her mouth. She dropped it at her owner's feet and gave her an eager 'meow.'

"Oh, I see you've been hunting." She laughed lightly, bending to pick the dead rodent by the tail, thinking to take it outside and throw it. But then, she realized it would be useful for the breeding of those 'special' flies of Aloysius' that he needed to brew potion. She tiptoed over to the offensive bowl and carefully dropped the mouse inside, not caring to look. She lay on her small bed and placed Lorette to cuddle upon her chest.

"I'm so tired, _petit chat_. I sometimes wish Aloysius could transform me into a cat, so I could lie around here like you do. But then, I'd be worried that I couldn't be turned back into a human."

Lorette stared up at her with her green feline eyes as if to say, 'Are you kidding me?'

"But considering what Prince Adam's servants went through, probably not," Adelaide stated out loud. "Do you want to play with the gold ball?"

She reached under her pillow and pulled out the little golden sport ball that fluttered in her palm when she held it, its feathery little appendages tickling. When Aloysius handled it, it was able to fly and zoom around, bouncing and ricocheting off walls and furniture. He was a wizard, that was why.

But since Adelaide wasn't an Enchantress, the Magical object did nothing to defy the laws of gravity- she'd toss it up, and it would drop to the floor and roll like an ordinary ball. Presently, she tossed the special ball across her bed and watched Lorette bat it about and wrestle it with her paws.

She imagined being a spectator when Marcel had played his games- soaring in the skies with the rest of his team over a stadium. He'd described it to her as being like 'lacrosse with brooms.'

She often looked out the windows over Paris and wondered exactly _where_ these games that Aloysius confirmed took place were even held. All she ever saw in the skies over the city were flocks of birds.

She had to keep believing. It would be too easy to just forget that magic existed, and that the things she'd seen Marcel do had been mere crazy illusions. He had been an enigma all along. Most of their time together, he had been nothing more than a simple, mild mannered coach driver. Until he shocked her with his almost bashful revelation of power.

Lorette had drowned in the river. Lorette had been truly dead, but Marcel had miraculously brought her back. He'd been actually nervous to admit it.

And moments later, she saw with her own eyes a fierce, supernatural battle with magic wands, something that no ordinary _Sans_-_Magie_ person was supposed to witness.

No matter what, she held the dear memory of Marcel Clement in her heart every single day since. Her 'Warlock.' That's what she fondly thought of him as.

The better terms, Aloysius had told her, were _Enchanter_ and _Enchantress_, or _Wizard,_ or _Sorcerer_ and _Sorceress._ _Warlock_\- which Emilie's new husband Gaston tended to use in a dismissive fashion- was outdated and a bit derogatory. But to Adelaide, the word sounded dashing, manly, and strong.

She recalled Marcel's wand battle with Sauvageon, how his dark eyes flashed with rebellious spirit when he cast the spell which trapped the nasty man in sheets of ice. No, he did not win the fight, quite the contrary. He'd lost, and Sauvageon had whisked him away to prison, never to be seen again.

A tear threatened to sting her eye again, but she swallowed the feelings back. She pet her cat with one hand while feeling the ball, warm and tickling, in the other.

…

After a short restful period, Adelaide heard a knock on the door. Hoping it was Aloysius, she padded on her stocking feet to answer it. She caught the smell of the bowl of fly larvae and dead whatever-it-was on the nearby table.

Aloysius stood grinning with his warm pleasant face and receding salt-and-pepper hair, her one source of comfort and connection to that magical world she was now so intrigued with.

"Good evening, Adelaide. Did you get some rest?"

"Yes," she replied, the smell of that organic stuff making her put a palm over her nose. "Can we talk in your room for a while?"

"Of course," He glanced around and led her into his own apartment a door away. "Come in."

"This is really nice, Aloysius!" Adelaide exclaimed. The sorcerer's latest home was a very elegant and well decorated little apartment with fine furniture, a red carpet, and a narrow four-poster bed with red brocade curtains over it.

"How did you get this? Do you have to pay more?" she asked him.

"Actually...I do my own secret decorating when the other _Sans-Magies_ aren't aware." He went over to the bed and pulled something from under his pillow- a wooden stick.

"_Mon Dieu_!" Adelaide exclaimed. "It's your wand! Are you allowed to have it here?"

"No one knows, and no one cares here."

He waved the wand in an arc as Adelaide gasped. In an instant, the room turned dull, poor and drab, just like Adelaide's next door room with the same cracked walls, threadbare furnishings, and worn bed coverings.

"This is what it looked like when I took it, but it's an eyesore to me. So I used some of my own imagination and made it more comfortable." He waved his wand again, and restored it back to the pleasant room he wanted.

"Could you do it for mine?" Adelaide asked.

Aloysius grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I suppose. But it must be kept absolute secret. You can't let anyone else inside your room except me."

She laughed. "Sounds scandalous, Monsieur. People are going to gossip about us!"

"I suppose others who are employed here are going to start assuming you and I are a couple. No matter. Let's let them assume."

He led her to a little round table and pulled out a chair for her to sit, then touched his wand to a bottle, causing it to fill with cold water. "I wish I had wine to offer you, but water may do."

"I'd much rather have water now, merci." She watched him pour the water into two shining crystal wine glasses. She took one and drank as her friend sat down across from her.

"I don't care what the hotel people think anyway, Monsieur Aloysius. But I don't want to prevent you from finding a lady of your own. If you're single, of course."

"I am. I never had a wife. If I had one, it wouldn't have been fair to her. You know, the way I trot about France and elsewhere on my Magical missions, finding potion ingredients and bringing them back to all the temporary homes I've occupied. I'm a 'rolling stone,' they say. Potions, and healing, and my secret work has always been more important to me than settling down."

"Really?" Adelaide said, intrigued. "What are the different kinds of potions you make? I know the one that cured Emilie and Gaston was mixed with apple cider and honey."

"Oui. That one is tasteless and it's easy to get people to drink them. My healing potion needed to be activated by true love's kiss. When Gaston and Emilie kissed for the first time, their smallpox scars healed."

"I loved when you did that for them, that was so romantic! What other potions are there?"

"Well, there is the one that causes an extreme infatuation or fake love for someone, but only temporary until the effects fade. It's a very popular potion with young Enchanteds. But I don't like making it or distributing it. It can cause broken hearts and even worse consequences."

"I see. I can understand why, too," She shuddered. "It sounds so evil to use magic to force love or desire. I hope Marcel wasn't under its influence when it seemed as if he liked me. Maybe that...man gave him some, so he had another reason to put Marcel in prison!"

"That Sauvageon fellow?" Aloysius shook his head. "Non, dear, I don't have evidence he bewitched Marcel with potions when you and he spent time together. Now, why would you think that?"

"It's hard for me to believe he really liked me that way," Adelaide said in a lowered voice, dropping her eyes to her lap, still covered in a dirty-water splattered apron. "I'm no raving beauty, Monsieur. Look at me. I'm dumpy and plain."

"Nonsense! You're a fetching and sweet lady," he consoled. "The younger me would've liked to have you on my arm as a date."

"You're saying that just because you're nice. As if I'm the daughter you never had." She took a dainty sip of the cold water, thinking that the elegance of the glass that Aloysius had magically conjured up did not allow for gulping, though she was thirsty.

"Dear, chin up!" he said in assurance. "Don't doubt it if a gentleman cares for you! Frankly, I never saw the two of you together, but from what I know about that young man, Monsieur Clement is an upright fellow who strives to do all things for good. As far as awareness of those kinds of deceptive potions, he's careful about those things now. He used to be a spy for Sauvageon. I don't know if you are aware, but Marcel was his right-hand man for over a year."

Adelaide frowned. "I can't believe he used to work for him. I remember Sauvageon calling Marcel 'his best agent' before he took him. Does that mean he used to work for the Magical government? What is it called?"

"_Le_ _Ministère._ It's true, Marcel worked for them. Indirectly, but yes. He was an agent in the guise of a simple coach driver. A double agent, because he did things Agathe asked him to do, while obeying Sauvageon at the same time."

A shadow of sadness overcame Adelaide's face once more. "It was dangerous work, then. No wonder he said what he said about wanting to leave the society. Is it really that bad?"

"I am afraid it is becoming that bad. The dark Enchanters have taken over leadership, and what you experienced with Sauvageon was just one example."

Adelaide touched her left upper arm with her right hand, where some time ago she'd been the victim of a magical attack by the cruel man. The cut had healed, but she remembered the terror of Sauvageon flicking his magic wand to inflict it upon her.

"How long do they keep people in prison down there?" she asked.

"Years...I'm sorry. People used to have trials, but Bertrand- the newest minister who uses Dark magic- it is said he doesn't bother with fair trials any longer. Sometimes the only way people can get out, is if their friends or allies come to help break them out."

"Can anyone do that for Marcel? And Agathe, since she wasn't really an evil person after all?"

Aloysius pursed his lips in thought. "It's...possible."

"Do you know people who can?"

"I don't know for certain, dear."

"Do you think you can?" She leaned forward in her chair and clasped her hands, her expression eager.

"Perhaps...do you want to help?" Aloysius raised his eyebrows.

"Me?" She leaned away from the wizard in her chair. "How can I help? I'm just a _Sans-Magie_. And I'm not somebody important, like a noble. I'm a cleaning maid."

"You can help me in little ways. Like today, for example. Raising those baby flies, even though it doesn't smell pleasant."

She took a deep breath. "I...I suppose it isn't hard for me to do that. Or go to find...whatever things you want me to find. I guess it's worth it, isn't it?" she asked in a nervous and halting voice.

"Two precious and talented lives are worth it, aren't they?" Aloysius said pointedly.

"Yes! Of course they're worth it!" Adelaide said. She gathered up a corner of her apron and wiped her eye.

"Then you will assist me from now on," said Aloysius. "Consider yourself a non official member of the ERA."

"What does that stand for?"

"The Enchanted Rebel Army," the sorcerer declared before taking another sip of cold water from his crystal wine glass.

...


	3. A Rally at Le Ministère

Chapter 3- A Rally at Le Ministère

…

Agathe closed her eyes and tried to sleep as her internal clock guessed it to be nearing night. The prison was consistently dim at all hours, lit by small torches and the glow of the electric eels in the moat below. The straw mat given the prisoners was no less comfortable than beds she settled for in her old simple hut in the forest near Villeneuve, or the apartment in Paris. She could sometimes almost pretend she was still in the peaceful evergreen forest. All it took was her imagination.

But as much as she imagined, she could not fantasize away the vocal banter and attention-seeking moans of LeLoup, who'd acquired an agreeable audience of one- Marcel. The subject of the afflicted man's lamentation was something which Agathe could not relate to, but her neighbor could. Apparently, Marcel had changed his mind about engaging the dangerous werewolf.

The two men were talking and keeping her awake.

"Oh, powerful soul of Merlin in the beyond, conjure me a miracle in my _dreams_ tonight!" wailed LeLoup. "If a woman loved me again...what a beautiful world it would be! I'd feel like a King! I'd spend every day, every night, in her arms, luxuriating in her lips, her skin, kissing and being kissed, unending, relentless love."

"I feel your pain, Monsieur. It's worse than starvation being without love, without touch, isn't it?" Marcel replied. "_Women_\- so beautiful. Their little dainty fingers holding on to yours, their soft voices. Always loving, never harsh."

"Yes indeed! Never harsh!" cried LeLoup. "My woman would _worship_ the ground I walk on. Every day she would greet me with a home cooked dinner, soups, stews, buttered baguettes, and while we dine together, she would tell me how great and strong and _powerful_ I am!"

"_Truth,_ Monsieur! What a comfort it would be! If only that could have happened for us. LeLoup- what color hair would she have, the woman in your dreams?" Marcel asked, his tone encouraging.

At least both the men sounded happier this evening, Agathe thought.

"Ginger red," said LeLoup. No- reddish _gold_. Long, red-gold hair, flowing down her shoulders and to her decolletage. Pale as the moon, eyes bright as-"

"So how would her cooking be?" Marcel asked, cutting him off swiftly.

Agathe suspected that LeLoup's mention of the word 'moon' was inviting anxiety in Marcel, ruining his little shared fantasy with his new neighbor.

"_Delicious_!" LeLoup growled hoarsely. "She would never be short on butter and cream or sugar. She would never burn the breads or let the meat go tough."

"A girl who can cook- that's the best kind! Without the use of wands or spells-"

"Why with no wands or spells, _garçon?_ She would need to use her wand and books of culinary and domestic charms for the best results. Unless you are thinking she'd be _Sans-Magie_. Are you?"

"What's wrong with _Sans-Magie_? Do you have a problem with that?" Marcel asked, his tone on the defensive.

LeLoup barked in laughter. "Of course not. I have no problem with you preferring a _Sans-Magie_ girl, as long as you have no problem with me being a werewolf. _Do_ you?"

"I...no. It was no fault of your own," Marcel said with a bit of uncertainty.

"I sense your hesitation, and it pains me, because all I ask for is a friend," LeLoup said softly, in a voice that Agathe was surprised by. He sounded human, wistful, like the shadow of the man he might have been once. No coarseness. She would speak to him more, if he _talked_ that way more.

"I will be your friend. I _know_ you wouldn't hurt a friend," Marcel declared.

"I _don't_ wish to hurt you- I watched you make that winning catch for the _Faucons_, remember? I'm now your undying fan, sweet boy."

Marcel laughed, softly with a hint of nervousness. "_Merci._" He paused, then asked a polite question of the other. "Where did you grow up, Monsieur LeLoup?"

"Normandy. Near the cliffs, the ocean. I used to love to swim."

"Sounds nice," said Marcel. "Away from the bustle of the city."

"My parents were respectable wizards," said LeLoup. "Father authored a few books of spells. Surely you've seen the name Jovan-Pasquale Lefebrve on your schoolbooks?"

"Yes, I do remember that name on one of my primary books!" said Marcel. "That was your father?"

"Yes. That had its drawbacks when I went to school, since I should've been an expert at memorizing the spells and acing exams. But I wasn't. I ended up dropping out of school when I was fifteen, spending my time diving and exploring off the beaches of Normandy. I always hoped to spot a mermaid, but I've never had any luck."

"They must be there, since Professeur Pepin had a preserved mermaid's tail in his classroom. It came from the Black Sea, he said," Marcel recalled.

"Professeur Pepin? I had him as well- a good teacher! He sparked my imagination and interest in magical ocean creatures!" said LeLoup. "I'll never forget his theory of the existence of Mer-Warlocks and Mer-Witches. A species of wizards who are half-man, half octopus. They have the ability to transform into ordinary humans and walk on land. If you're unlucky enough to meet an evil one who lures you to the ocean, they will pull you in and drown you."

"I remember that! Most students thought Pepin was crazy," Marcel said fondly.

"True. So I decided I didn't want to waste time in the classroom anymore!" said LeLoup. "I wanted to go back home to Normandy and dive the ocean, holding my lit wand beneath the water in hopes of seeing these merpeople. I knew it was dangerous, and I didn't care. It's ironic, though- instead of being drowned by a Mer-Witch, I was wandering by the cliffs on a moonlit night, seven years ago. That was when I was cornered and attacked by a gigantic wolf. So now- here I am."

"A sad story," said Marcel in empathy. "Sounds like you had a nice place to grow up, at least. Now, when I think of the land of Normandy and beaches, I think of...Sauvageon, and his terrifying crystal ball with those images of the far future."

"That officer, you mean? The one who tossed you in here?" LeLoup asked.

"Yes. Hope I'm free to speak badly of him when he isn't here-" Marcel's voice lowered- "because that man was _one crazy_ m-"

"He's my _family_," Agathe finally cut in the conversation softly. "And if I were you, dear, I wouldn't say his name out loud, because he may have set a Summons upon it. Just as Aloysius tends to like doing."

"Oh," Marcel said with a little inhale of breath, caution coming over him. The Summons charm caused an Enchanter or Enchantress to 'pop in' a room as a conscious, visible projection from far away, whenever their full name was spoken out loud.

"_Wait now_!" said LeLoup. "Say that again, Marcel. What 'scary' images of the future are you talking about, _mon ami_? Something about my homeland, you said?"

"It was nothing in our lifetime, Monsieur," Marcel replied. "A war. He...when I worked for him, he had these strange magical oracles in his office. One of them was a crystal ball. All he would do was point to a place on a map, and speak out a year to the strange ball. Usually a year far into the future. One day, another spy and myself were sitting there, watching him play around with it, like a toy. According to that _thing_, there is supposed to be a terrible war battle that will happen in your Normandy."

"A war battle? So what?" LeLoup said, shrugging. "_Sans-Magies_ are always at war. They're worse than us. Will it involve you and I personally?"

"Of course not, Monsieur LeLoup. It's supposed to happen well over a hundred and fifty years into the future. It scared me, though. _Sans-Magies_ were using great fire wands. They could fly huge machines- faster than brooms or flying carriages. Their weapons were so terrible, the sea had turned red from the blood of all the soldiers!"

"I can imagine that happening- if werewolves like _me_ are let loose to bite and spread our wretched ailments!" LeLoup exclaimed.

"From what the year was...we won't see that war in our lifetimes," said Marcel. "I'm more concerned about something Sauvageon showed us of events not that long from now," he added soberly. "Only twenty years or so."

"What was that? All _Sans-Magies_ burned up in blue flames thanks to Barth- er- our supreme _Leader_?" LeLoup asked, catching himself before saying the Minister's full name.

"No...something to do with royals. Here in France. Uh...Mademoiselle Agathe, I think it's something that might concern that nice young couple I met. Adam and Belle."

"What do you mean, Marcel?" said Agathe. "What did you see about _them_? What was my nephew showing you?"

"Do you care enough about Prince Adam, then?" Marcel asked her. "You hurt him for years, you even _admit_ it."

"Yes, Marcel. But it was my spell that redeemed him. You saw him more recently than I did. He's a happily married, good man. And his servants, including your sister, are doing wonderfully. So why do you still hold it against me?"

"Because I've been trying to work it out in my mind, that _maybe_ Prince Adam and that Gaston fellow deserved your curses. That my sister and her husband, and all those other servants _deserved_ to become objects doomed to that curse, but I can't rationalize it anymore. I _don't_ think they deserved it. It wasn't your _place_ to transform a man into a Beast who couldn't be cured until he found someone to love him. Or turn people into objects whose lives were dependent upon their master finding that love. Or to revive a man and wipe his mind clean like a slate. What you did, Agathe, was arrogant and unlawful!"

At his convicting words, one of the monstrous centipedes creeping along the hallway outside leapt unnaturally in the air and flung itself with a _splat_ against Agathe's cell wall, close to her bed. She flinched at the sight.

"You _tell_ her!" LeLoup cheered Marcel on, a grin spreading across his bearded face.

"Did you cause that?" Agathe asked Marcel, disturbed. The creature thankfully crawled out of sight.

"Involuntarily, yes," he admitted. "It happens sometimes. I'm sorry."

Agathe's features fell, her face looking careworn despite her form as a willowy young blonde, her small figure currently draped in a shapeless, oversized blue and grey-striped prison nightgown. A nerve had been hit, her feelings were hurt. But at least Marcel had expressed the reasons behind his aloof attitude towards her the past few days. Getting his anger out was what he needed to do first, she reasoned. He just needed some time.

"You'd expressed to me on the night you arrived, that you _forgave_ me for your sister's ordeal, Marcel. Yet you keep falling back into resentment. I don't blame you. It _was_ a criminal misuse of magic and power against the _Sans-Magie_ people. Do...do you want to _talk_ about it?"

She was humbling herself, becoming real, raw, and honest. Memories of her own recent lessons toward Gaston Legume, his struggles with honesty and humility, were coming full circle.

"I don't know. I'm just..._confused_ about you," Marcel admitted. "I don't know. It's hard, because he put me here right _next_ to you. He must have known how much of a punishment it would be."

"It's all right, dear. I'm sorry that having me next to you is making things difficult," said Agathe.

"I feel better now," Marcel said, lying down as exhaustion came over him. "Sorry."

"I'm confused about you, too, Agathe. And _you_, Marcel," said LeLoup, his mouth widening in a snaggletooth grin around his beard and whiskers. "_Sexually,_ that is."

Both of his neighbors looked at him in mortified outrage. Marcel and Agathe were trying to have a heartfelt conversation, trying again to come to an understanding, a truce. LeLoup had their sympathies, but his rudeness was a different matter.

"Do you wish me to revoke the friendship I just declared?" Marcel said in a raised voice across the hall to LeLoup. "Because that's _really _getting on our nerves. It's why I was encouraging you before to keep thinking about your dream woman!"

"But sometimes I have a dream _man_," said LeLoup. "I'm like an animal full of pent-up desires, and no way to release them. And before you suggest it, my dear friend of the masculine persuasion, I've _tried_ it. Transparent glass cell walls, no?"

"_Blankets_," replied Marcel, holding his own wool blanket up and shaking it. "We all have them."

"That's enough, boys. I'm going to try to _sleep_, and I shall withdraw myself from this discussion this very instant," said Agathe crossly.

"I'd like to withdraw myself from in between the Mademoiselle's lovely, lily white- _Aaagghh_!"

LeLoup jumped up and doubled over in pain. He rubbed his groin and upper legs, blowing warm air into his meaty hands and putting them back to his midsection to warm himself.

"_Cold! Cold! C-c-cold…_" The large man hissed and shivered, doing a hopping dance in his cell while stooped over, his face twisting in agony.

Agathe looked at Marcel. "You _didn't_."

"I couldn't help myself."

"With no wand?" she whispered.

"Yes. I _said_ I could do it wandless."

"Undo it now, Marcel. _Please._" And yet, Marcel had criticized _her_ for doing similar things to Gaston Legume, she thought.

Marcel concentrated on LeLoup and whispered, "_Arrêt._" The man stood upright, sighing in relief as warmth flooded over his lower body and the icy cold feeling ebbed away. As soon as the spell subsided, he glanced over at his neighbors in anger.

"_Which one of you did that to me_?" LeLoup growled, rage twisting his features. The shadow of the wolf that was slated to emerge the very next evening was clear in his bearing.

"I did. Because you violated my privacy and honor as a woman with your words," declared Agathe. "I want it to stop."

LeLoup sat back down on his bed, his eyes widened in shock. They began to redden, welling up with tears of guilt and remorse.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I'll try to control my foul mouth from now on, when I have my human wits about me. But...b-but tomorrow night-" his voice began to tremble with fear and despair, tears spilling into his beard- "Tomorrow night I...I _can't_ control. I won't be _able_ to control...please defend yourselves against me if you need to! Let the guards fry me with their wands! _Protect_ yourselves!"

LeLoup collapsed in his bed and began to bawl and wail like a small child. "_They_ _ought to kill me_!" were the words that Marcel and Agathe heard through the loud moaning and carrying on.

Marcel looked at Agathe with remorse and relief. He whispered, "_Thank you._"

Barks and howls sounded from above. "_LeLoup_! Stay strong! We are here for you, and we'll fight for you!" declared the three men in the upper floor, attempting to console their lead alpha wolf-to-be.

Marcel didn't want to harm LeLoup the next night, nor did he want to find himself casting a freezing curse upon the guards, either. Frustratingly, even well into adulthood, he acted with Offensive magic before thinking, with harmful consequences. His professors from school warned him about that trait, but Sauvageon had encouraged it. He'd told him to be 'brutal,' something against Marcel's nature.

The most glaring example of his impulses was starting the fight with Sauvageon which landed him here. He _had_ to. Sauvageon attacked Adelaide that day, the coward hypocrite.

Marcel watched as a guard finally approached and pointed his wand at LeLoup's cell, causing the unseen glass door to crack open. The guard walked in, wand held out in defense, pulling a canteen from his pocket. With an almost kindly manner, he offered the man some sleeping potion, which he drank. Within minutes, LeLoup was snoring. Marcel lay awake for a while, songs and tunes that his uncle Edouard used to play and sing running through his head, until he finally fell asleep.

Agathe was unable to sleep for a long time. She knew she would get no rest in the chaos which was to come in less than twenty-four hours. Nerves forced her brain to remain on high alert as she, a grown woman, lay in a fetal position like a little girl. A night guard walked by around three in the morning, and Agathe waved him down, begging for a bit of the same sedating medicine LeLoup had been offered.

**…**

Meanwhile, above the underground prison in the city of Paris, a political rally and party was being held at the auditorium hall at _Le Ministère_ headquarters.

Alexis Sauvageon held a glass of Merlot in one hand along with his fellow officers as the speech was about to begin. The place was packed. Every person's identification had been checked. Wands and Mirrors had been proven to belong to those who carried them, but there was still that worry that someone unauthorized may have been let in.

Bartholomé Bertrand came to the podium- a short man with a block-shaped bald head and buggy, all-knowing blue eyes. He wore a bright blue silk suit and a matching cloak that billowed out behind him, giving him the illusion of more size and stature. Silence went over the hall as all of the men and a few women raised their glasses in a toast. A _maître_ _d'_ stood at the podium holding a goblet and a bottle of Merlot wine, filling it for the Minister and handing it to him.

Minister Bertrand held his own wine aloft and began to speak, his tone initially gentle, soft, then growing to an exuberant crescendo.

"_Magic_...a human right that all of us hold in advantage. A gift that we must not take lightly. A way of life, a privilege, a weapon. You here before me are the _pinnacle_ of human evolution, the apex of all that is _good_ and _right._ You, gentlemen- and ladies- are..._magnificent!_ I drink my toast to _you,_ my great people!"

He drank his glass of wine, and everyone, including Alexis, followed.

When all glasses were empty, each Enchanter waved his wand and let the goblets float to the ceiling with excited shouts of '_Hear, hear!_" Bertrand held his wand aloft and transformed the multitude of goblets into blue flames, lighting up the hall above them. The flames dimmed, shape-shifted, forming a huge blue cloth banner, emblazoned with a glittering silver '_B_.' The crowd roared and cheered.

"You are my elite, my children, my pure Enchanteds," Bertrand continued in a soothing, almost loving tone to his followers. "We are committed to growing and flourishing as a race. Not 'race' as in nationality or ethnic group, _non!_ I may be a French wizard, yet only my father was a Frenchman. My mother is a Spanish enchantress, and I was fortunate to learn three languages- French, Spanish, and English. My friends- I want to welcome the elite and pure from all around the globe! Tonight...we have before us delegates of Magic from China-" Bertrand pointed a finger to a group of representatives, men in bright red traditional Mandarin robes who raised their wands in joyful greeting.

"_The African lands!" _Bertrand gestured to another delegation- men and women in colorful robes and jewelry who cheered heartily and raised their wands.

"_England!_" A very small group of suited and wigged men, a few ladies in hooped gowns, graciously nodded and accepted the Minister's greeting.

"Good evening especially to _you_\- for your willingness to join me regardless of national politics!" Bertrand told the English group. He switched his language from French to English to address them only.

"_Give your leader my greetings and well wishes, but let's keep what we speak of here tonight confidential. He doesn't need to be aware of all we discuss here, don't you think?" _

Bertrand winked jovially and the English representatives laughed, knowing that being here with the controversial French leader was an act against their own Minister.

Bertrand continued. "And I'm proud to say that we have a few brave souls here who traveled all the way from a brand new nation, just established- _America_!"

Another group of men and women cheered. They were draped in cloaks of red, white, and blue, with stars and stripes. One woman held up a golden banner with an eagle, bearing the slogan '_New_ _Nation? or Ancient Magic?'_ in English, with _'New Nation'_ crossed out in blood red.

"A hotbed of debate still happening there, is it not, Elizabeth?" Bertrand asked her personally, once again in English.

"Yes, and I am proud to say that we have just relocated our Enchanted Congress to the city of Washington. So many exciting things happening in our new land this year. It will be a glorious era!" she replied, waving as the people cheered again. Surprisingly, the American group was next to the English group, sharing camaraderie despite the fact that their _Sans-Magie_ counterparts were still engaged in a war of revolution.

"_Bonne chance_, Elizabeth!" Bertrand beamed at the woman and ran from the podium over to her, taking her hand in his and giving it a gracious kiss. He then ran back up to the podium as a party atmosphere spread among the followers.

Alexis Sauvageon was caught up in the joy and fervor. Bertrand continued to gush praise upon everyone in the hall. He raised his hands, his beaming, charismatic smile turning to a serious frown. The glowing light from the multitude of blue candles suspended above dimmed, little by little.

Bertrand reached beneath his podium and took out a crystal ball. He held his wand over it and closed his eyes. Sauvageon's heart rate rose; it was he himself who owned that crystal ball, an extravagant purchase. He had given it up to Bertrand as a gift.

The Minister opened his eyes and pointed his magic wand up to his banner above. The banner changed from blue to blinding white, and the initial _B_ disappeared, giving the banner the look of a giant screen.

With a flick of Bertrand's wand from the crystal ball, a blue flame shot upward from his wand and soared to the white banner, where moving images appeared upon it. The crowd gasped.

They were the images of the world's future- war, revolutions, genocide- spanning over a hundred years or more. Soldiers wading through blood-red waters, bodies lying about. Sauvageon had viewed these same scenes earlier. He'd been able to use his own powers of prophecy to summon them from the crystal ball, though he himself had little understanding of them.

For several minutes, the assembled delegations of sorcerers and sorceresses watched, shocked and appalled at what they were seeing. When the haunting scenes faded, Minister Bertrand flicked his wand, the blue flames descended to the crystal ball, and his banner was restored to its original cerulean blue color, the silver _B _emitting sparks and glitter.

"_Sans-Magies,_" Bertrand said grimly, his expression tormented.

Elizabeth, the lady from the American delegation, was heard quietly sobbing. Other voices mumbled in anger and derision.

"Ladies and gentlemen, do we- as noble Enchanted people- kill one another over ridiculous issues such as land and borders? Do we round up others and starve and beat them to death because of their creed, skin color or beliefs?"

"_No!_" the crowd shouted.

"Do we deny our children a proper education, because some families may lack the wealth to send them?"

"_No!"_

"Do we take men, women and children from their homeland, crowd them like sardines into ships, and sell the ones who still remain alive across the Atlantic Ocean into slavery?"

"_No!"_

"_We do not!"_ Bertrand bellowed. "We are civilized. Cultured! Decent..._pure!_ Magic is the great purifier, the trait of all that is good. Those human beings out there- although it makes my stomach lurch to even call them 'human beings'- those creatures without magic, are the ones _responsible_ for all of this! They are _savages_! Scum! A blight upon the entire world!"

Sauvageon's heart swelled over with pride. Pride for his leader, pride for Magical society, pride for himself. He took a few steps forward, separating from two of his fellow officers, Roux and Surratt, and raising his fist high in hopes to get the Minister's attention.

"_La magie est légère!"_ he shouted, unable to control his fervor. "Magic is light!" His words were echoed by those near him.

"So true, Monsieur Sauvageon, my treasured compatriot! Magic _is_ light!" the Minister said, beaming at Alexis with pride, giving him a glow of satisfaction. "The world is going to descend into darkness, if _Sans-Magies_ are not controlled. The question remains- what shall we do? How shall we prevent these scenes from coming to pass? The only ways are either to render them powerless and use our gifts to make them subservient to us...or, the most distasteful option- extinction."

"_Extinction_!" shouted an angry man behind Sauvageon. Roux turned around and gave him a disapproving glare.

"We mustn't be rash," Bertrand warned. "We still cannot do anything to let them be aware of us and our world. The last thing we want is exposure. If you show your powers in front of one, and especially if you _hurt _one, you had _better _make certain that you alter his or her memory. I am going to ask for an analysis of your personal wands. This does not include you, my lovely foreign friends. I am speaking to my French countrymen only. If we see violations- blunders...you will be shown to your new home underground. _La_ _Maison de Crimes Noirs, _where you can live in the company of criminals- such as the notorious Agathe, the crazy, _Sans-Magie_-obsessed Beast Enchantress. She is safely in custody, no longer able to cause us trouble. So let me warn you, friends. If you are detained, you will be live indefinitely among the likes of Agathe and the other traitors, locked in a glass cell with plenty of er- _interesting creatures_ to keep you...entertained. I _don't _think you would like that very much."

Sauvageon gulped as Minister Bertrand's eyes swept the sobered crowd and met his gaze. He realized that his own wand still held the memory data, the evidence of the mistake he'd made somewhat recently.

That girl. The one he'd thrown a skin-cutting curse upon. He'd neglected to stay near her to obliterate her memory, or send another wizard to do it. He'd been too focused on Clement, on getting him thrown into _La Maison_ as swiftly as he could.

"I ask you to turn in your wands here at the Law Office tomorrow, and my skilled expert will analyze them," said Bertrand. "Any French Enchanter or Enchantress who claims they forgot their wand at home, will be _sent_ home. To _La Maison_." He smiled at them again; a smile the same as it had been earlier, when he'd lavished his praise upon them.

Sauvageon's spirits lifted. There could only be one 'skilled expert' Bertrand could be talking about. Who _else_ gave him the grand gift of the Crystal Ball? Who _else_ had captured the elusive Agathe?

"Remember my friends! _You_ are the light! _La magie est légère!" _the Minister cried, his smile beaming as his wand tip lit with a white glow.

Everyone followed suit, including Alexis Sauvageon. All Enchanters' wands were held aloft, glowing like stars as the auditorium hall darkened, with the exception of the glittering silver _B_ above them all.

"_Magic is light! Magic is light!"_ everyone began to chant in unison, swaying and waving their brilliant wands. It continued for minutes, mesmerizing and electrifying the crowd. Alexis' confidence and pride returned.

After everyone's voices grew tired, the wine bottles were brought out once again, a quartet of musicians began to play, and the rally relaxed into a party.

Alexis shoved his way through crowds, trying to seek eye contact with Bertrand, who was gaily shaking hands with the assorted foreign representatives. Finally, the Minister turned from the guests and locked eyes with him.

"Monsieur Bertrand!" Alexis greeted.

"Good evening, Monsieur Sauvageon," Bertrand said with a fond smile. "_Merci_ for the generous gift of the Crystal Ball Oracle. It was a perfect aid to my speech."

"So, Monsieur- when do you wish me to report to the Law Office tomorrow to conduct my analysis of wands?"

"Ah, there is no need for you to do the job, Alexis. I have appointed Officer Roux instead."

Bertrand's gaze went beyond Alexis' shoulder as he gestured to Nicolas Roux. The other man of more seniority stepped forward, reaching to shake Bertrand's hand and give him a long, sweeping bow of subservience.

Alexis stood there in mortification and shock. Roux stood upright, grinned, and held out his arms to gather both Alexis and Minister Bertrand in a warm group embrace. Alexis' stomach lurched at the close contact. His wand was tucked in his waistcoat pocket, beneath his cloak. Much too close to the wands of both his leader and colleague as they stood hip to hip.

He didn't feel like reveling in the party any longer.

...


	4. LeLoup's Transformation

Chapter 4- LeLoup's Transformation

...

Marcel opened his eyes late that morning. One moment, he was in a pleasant, groggy sleep state, and the next, dread filled him. _Tonight will be LeLoup's night. _

He stared at the large figure on the cot behind the opposite glass wall. LeLoup was sleeping late, as always. Marcel looked to the woman on his left; she was motionless, sound asleep. This day was not going to be tolerable. He didn't know what he would say to either of them once they awakened.

A guard came by and deposited their breakfasts- the same old porridge bowls- before them. Marcel tried to force his down while taking care to not look at the walls around him, expecting one of the _Centipèdes Gras _to skitter by any moment with their bristly legs and pincers, ruining his appetite for another day.

A few moments later, the same guard came by with a rolling cart of tea. Marcel watched the man pour tea for a prisoner a few cells down. One of the giant cats paced by and stopped close to the guard, sniffing the tea cart. Surprisingly, the man poured creamer into a cup and set it down, and the big cat lapped it up. The guard was busy watching whoever it was in that cell, imploring him for a minute to drink the tea. Apparently, the man was stubbornly refusing it.

"I'm leaving this here if you change your mind," the guard said, before moving his tea cart closer. He noticed Marcel looking at him.

"Number 248. Care for some tea?" the greasy haired man asked with a rather curt tone.

"_Merci._ That's...kind of you," Marcel replied with a nonchalant shrug. The man poured some tea and waved his wand at the glass wall, opening it up to hand the cup to the prisoner.

"A new inmate a few cells down is a VIP," the guard whispered to him with a thumb pointed in that direction. "He used to be one of the Minister's favorite newspaper publishers, but he was just caught this morning! Printing a paper sympathetic to _Sans-Magies_. With invisible ink!"

Marcel didn't say anything for or against the charge of the new inmate. He accepted the tea and drank it, feeling the comfort of at least having a warm drink and some more human conversation. He was about to thank the guard again when his mind went sleepy and he slumped forwards against the glass wall.

His teacup crashed to the floor. From somewhere outside his dreamy state he heard words pouring out, loudly and fervently, all in his own voice-

"_Earlier this summer, I fell in love with a Sans-Magie woman! I never had the chance to pursue it further when I was brought here. I wanted to court her and marry her if I had the chance! I befriended many a Sans-Magie, including the husband of my sister, who was Defectively born with no magic! My grandmother was Sans-Magie, and that makes me_ _only_ _three-fourths Magical blood! My greatest wish was to abdicate my own Gift, destroy my wand and Mirror forever- and live among them! I would have married this girl. I could have driven carriages, or learned a trade. We would have raised our children, magical or not! And after a good day's work,__ I wanted to go home, gather my dear wife in my arms and lavish her with kisses and passion! I'd wake for another day's work all over again, hitching up a team of horses and repairing coach wheels! And I would love all of it!"_

Laughter sounded about the cell block as Marcel snapped back to full consciousness. He lifted his head from the cool glass to see the guard joined by another, both looking at him with derision.

"Filthy _Sang Sale, _lover of mud-women," the tea-serving guard said to him before turning to his colleague. "So Sauvageon _was_ right about him. Too bad...we might have been able to free him today."

Marcel had heard talk of 'mud' people before; a derogatory term for _Sans-Magies. _And the fact he had one grandparent as such made his own blood 'dirty?' He barely registered the second comment, then- about the possibility of them freeing him. Why was that? Did they stop taking Sauvageon's word as law?

"Tough luck, monsieur," said the other guard. "You're on the starvation list as of today. And you can enjoy the company of your good _ami _across from you!" He laughed cruelly and decided to spit a bit of saliva against Marcel's wall before walking away. "Have fun with the wolf!"

LeLoup had awakened. He stretched his thick arms and sat upright on his bed, giving him a raised-eyebrow look.

"Sorry for my outburst," Marcel apologized to him.

"Marcel, you're talkative today!" LeLoup said with a surprisingly good natured air. "You woke me from my deep sleep, blabbering on about your _Sans-Magie_ grandmother, and a wife, and...fixing coach wheels? The hell was _that_ about?"

"My guess? It was truth serum," Marcel replied. "They slipped it in a cup of tea and it made me spill out all my secrets and wishes. So now you know my great sins." He gestured to where the guards had left, and the teacup shards on the floor.

"You're a bad, _bad_ boy, I must say," LeLoup said before cackling in laughter. "I'm _joking_! I thought they already knew of your charges," he added with a crooked smirk. "What did they say about almost setting you free?"

"I don't know," said Marcel, closing his eyes in despair. "Whatever it was, doesn't matter now."

"They said they're going to starve you," LeLoup said softly, and Marcel caught a watery glimmer of caring in the other man's eyes. "A grave injustice. You're only a quarter _Sang-Sale_? That's no good reason to send you to a slow death."

"No, I suppose it isn't," Marcel said, unable to hide his sarcasm. He tried to focus his attention to LeLoup's well-being, considering the other needed some solace for what was to come.

"How are _you_ feeling?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Not hungry at least," said LeLoup.

"That's good." Marcel forced a smile, turning to check on his neighbor to the right. Agathe was still motionless beneath her wool blanket, which was pulled over her head, looking disturbingly like a death shroud.

"Is _she_ all right?" Marcel asked.

"They might have given her sleeping potion last night, that's what they did for me," said LeLoup. "You know that tonight's the night."

Marcel breathed a long sigh. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better today?"

"Kill my ass before I'm electrocuted, that would be the kindest."

"LeLoup, you know I can't do that."

"It's what I want."

"_Agathe?_" Marcel pleaded, tapping on her side of the glass with his knuckle. "Agathe, _please._ Are you awake yet?"

The small lump under the sheets moved, and she pushed the blanket aside. The two men gasped. Instead of a young, tired and pale-looking but beautiful blonde woman, there lay a wrinkled, grey-haired, elderly woman who looked to be on the edge of death.

"_Agathe_!" Marcel cried out. "What th-? How did you do _that_?"

She rose up to face them and spoke with a weak, faltering voice. "I...I think I did it in my sleep. I _dreamed_ of transforming, and...I must have willed it to happen in reality."

"You must be under stress," said Marcel.

"Mademoiselle, if you're trying the 'don't hurt a poor old lady' trick on me to pull sympathy, the fact remains that you froze my damned _testicles_ last night!" said LeLoup bitterly.

"I shouldn't have been so rash," said Agathe, still covering up for Marcel's actions. "I was in a cross mood. I am truly sorry for that," she added, giving both men a kind, weak smile. "Good morning. At least I think it is morning. What was your given name again?" she asked LeLoup, in a renewed attempt at kindness.

"It's Robert," LeLoup replied. "No use for it now. I'm a monster."

"Just try to hold on to your humanity, _mon ami_," said Marcel.

"Not that simple."

"You may die tonight," Agathe said grimly, ignoring Marcel's appalled look at her words. "If their torture is too much, I can possibly do something wandless to help you. I can do the_ Rendre Fort_ charm wandless. They may not notice."

"They can't stop wandless charms. Or the curses us prisoners decide to put on each other. _Obviously_," LeLoup said, eyeing Agathe with angered eyes.

"We wish and hope the best for you, Robert," said Agathe.

"So do I, Robert. I hope for the safety of _all _of us, to tell the truth," Marcel added.

The conversation between the three of them died off. Awkwardly and nervously, the prisoners sat, Marcel and Agathe constantly glancing in LeLoup's direction. Neither of them really knew what more to say to him for the remainder of the day.

After an hour, Marcel closed his eyes and threw the wool blanket over his head, same as Agathe had done, in order to withdraw into his own thoughts. He went to his 'happy' place that afternoon. That place was the memory of a cross-country journey, well over a month ago. Driving a stagecoach with Adelaide Fortier riding beside him.

"_Marcel, I swear you're a Cat Whisperer! How did you manage to find Lorette in only a few minutes?" Adelaide asked him with a laugh. _

_Her kitten had been safely located by Marcel, and placed inside the coach with the human passengers. They'd left the town of Colmar, and were on the way to Prince Adam's castle._

"_It was luck. Either that, or the fact I found her loitering behind a fish shop. Perhaps she was hungry, I don't blame the little one," Marcel replied with an air of nonchalance. It was partly the fish shop, but mostly the work of his Magic Mirror when Adelaide wasn't looking._

"_You have a heart for animals, don't you?" she asked, a laugh still in her voice. _

_A small dimple formed at the corner of her lip as she turned to face ahead. Her eyes squinted with an expression of mirth. She was enjoying this ride, this day, because he was with her. Or so he hoped._

"_I could say that. Animals are pure souls. Few people are." __She was one of the purest people he'd ever met, besides his beloved sister._

_Adelaide turned to acknowledge his words; her smile to him was sunshine itself. She darted her gaze away again, her cheeks were apple-red. The sun was high, and he wondered if her rosiness was from her neglecting to wear her bonnet that morning. She was wearing the floppy hat, tied with a pink ribbon beneath her chin. Whenever a breeze blew, the brim folded backwards. She put a hand up to fix it, again and again. The breeze lifted the shirred ruffle collar of Marcel's white linen shirt. The two of them admired the lush green hillsides of early summer, as the coach journeyed on._

_When they arrived at the ball, would he dare to ask her for a dance? Would he even have the time? He was here on Sauvageon's assignment, not for socializing._

"_I'm so glad the sun is out. I was dreading rain, weren't you?" she asked after a time._

"_Oui. I don't care to drive the team through mud. The sun is nice."_

"_I think so, too. It's so pretty here!"_

"_It is." _

_Dear God, good Merlin, it was all pretty._

_Later, close to the castle, Marcel and Adelaide passed through a village. He decided to not stop, to continue through the thick forested road, so to not be late. They rode on, the other passengers inside. Her sister Emilie, a petite girl with a heart-shaped face and unique beauty of her own. Emilie's fiance Gaston- also known by the name Luc- a tall, raven haired man in his early thirties. He was the one cursed by Agathe, with her Memory-Obliteration. Tortured by pain-hexes whenever Agathe's pre-determined rules for him were broken. Punished for things he didn't remember. He'd been her next subject, after the Prince Adam case. Her second 'experiment' of sorts. Her plan succeeded; the formerly selfish and brutal man was reformed and better off now._

_There had been two others present on the ride as well; a happy young married couple named Jean and Clémence. They were near their final destination, when the stagecoach wheel became stuck. Buried in mud..._

'Mud People.'

His mind made that odd association, ruining his pleasant train of thought.

That was what his society called people like Adelaide and his sister. A society no longer his, Marcel decided. If he were to die of starvation in this prison...perhaps it would be better than being part of this existence for life. A life he was now mentally preparing to sacrifice.

Nearly twenty-six years he had lived now, as a born wizard. A star _Boule de Plume_ player for a brief season. The son of a member of the Parisian wizard elite, his mother an African-born enchantress of potion-making talent. He'd been precocious in magical ability as a small child, but only an average student at the Académie.

School proved to be mostly drudgery to Marcel, except for the excitement of playing on the _Boule de Plume_ team for his division, the House of the Butterfly. His only enjoyable class had been Professeur Pepin's, working with the more appealing types of creatures like _Lutin_ Goblins and _Chevaux Minuscules. _And of course, spending time with his best friend Andre.

School had been a pleasant distraction from the breakup of his parents, and his sister running away from home to join the _Sans-Magie_ world, where she was happier. As a boy, Marcel had naively helped her escape home, where Maman had placed strict rules on her. He didn't know that she wouldn't be able to return...

Looking back, with all its joys and pains, his life was soon to be over.

LeLoup may receive his swift death tonight, by electric strikes from the guards' wands. Marcel would be getting his slowly, over weeks. A slender and fit man, he was the type who ate to _live_, not one who lived to eat. But still, he was about to suffer. Empty stomachs hurt..._after a while, would it stop hurting?_ Would he desire to eat the disgusting giant centipedes out of desperation? Chew on his own leather slippers?

_How long before it would be over?_

A crashing, banging sound from nearby shook Marcel out of his morbid thoughts. The sound of cracking glass. Footsteps pattered down the iron staircase at the end of the cell block, voices of guards shouting to each other like a battalion of advancing soldiers. He inhaled a breath out of the hole the wool blanket made over his face and decided to peek out to take a look.

LeLoup was growing into a being twice his normal size. His nose was elongating into a muzzle. His body grew silver-white fur, his arms and legs were shifting and stretching to those of an animal on all fours. He soon formed a tail, claws, and long fangs.

The great wolf leapt madly at his glass wall, pounding and scraping with his sharp claws. Spider-web cracks in the glass gave way to shards on the floor and a gaping hole, and LeLoup forced his muzzle through it with a vicious growl. At least a dozen guards were ready.

The entire cell block lit with wand-shocks like lightning bolts. All the calm and quiet of moments before gave way to shouts, screams, growling, and horrible cracking sounds of the wand attacks. LeLoup gave a loud and agonized howl as he was thrown back by the shocks. He cowered in his cell and curled into a furry ball, shaking as the strikes hit him again and again. Bits of the wolf's fur appeared to be singed by fire. Marcel could even smell something burning.

The three werewolves above howled and scraped at their cells, transformed into slightly smaller wolves. Guards upstairs begin to shoot attack curses at them.

"_Agathe!"_ Marcel screamed out to his neighbor, not sure whether he wanted her to help LeLoup, or to kill him herself before he could kill _them._

Which manner did he want to die? A wolf mauling, or starvation? It could be over soon!

The old woman had risen from bed and stood upright, her face strong and determined. She held her bony hands out towards LeLoup as the guards kept firing their torturing curses at him. The huge wolf's cries of pain lessened, he seemed to gain more strength. Agathe must have used a charm to heal or protect him!

LeLoup rose on his hind legs and broke completely through his cell with a shattering of thick glass. Within a split second, he'd leapt and pounced on one of the guards with his front claws. Marcel watched in horror as the wolf bit into the man's throat, drawing blood. After the huge animal raised his head upright, the other guards scattered away.

Scared to the point where he could barely move a muscle, Marcel just stared at the wolf until they finally locked gazes. From behind, he heard Agathe shout a spell of healing. He wasn't certain if it was for the guard, or for the wolf.

LeLoup's eyes were pale blue and bloodshot, the only feature recognizable as the man named Robert. He fixed his eyes on Marcel and crept closer to him.

"_Robert!_" Marcel yelled, his hands outstretched in defense. "Please...it's me, Marcel, your friend. Please…"

The wolf leapt to his glass cell wall and began to bang on it with his front paws. A web of cracks formed immediately.

_Either this, or starvation,_ Marcel told himself, his hands thrown stiffly forward to brace himself against what was to come. He was faintly aware of Agathe in the other cell, with her hand outstretched, performing spells. He hoped she was doing something to make the glass unbreakable.

The cracks grew until the entire glass wall shattered. The wolf drew closer, his ice blue eyes narrowed in hunger. His mouth went wide open, revealing sharp fangs of yellow with grey and brown stains. The fur on his muzzle was covered with the unfortunate other man's blood.

_Agathe, you insane hag! Are you even helping? _Marcel thought in desperation, aware of her presence nearby.

"No! _No_!" he screamed, taken over by terror and ashamed of his cowardly cry of "I'm your _friend!_" which followed. A vicious growl emitted from the creature's throat as he thrust his muzzle towards the frightened man.

**...**


	5. The Frozen Beast

Chapter 5- The Frozen Beast

...

LeLoup lunged at Marcel in his base animal instinct, ready to maul him.

Marcel's own instincts went into fight-or-flight mode. Almost involuntarily- just as the tip of his right thumb was pierced by the wolf's fang- Marcel heard himself cry out a powerful fighting spell, his only chance.

"_Geler le Corps!"_

The wolf froze, ceasing all movement as his body was transformed into a sculpture of pure ice. A frigid draft emanated from the remains of what was once a human being. Marcel backed away and stumbled, collapsing on the bed in the corner of his prison cell. He lay there shivering and hyperventilating.

A concerned Agathe drew closer to the young man on her side of the wall, until only inches of glass separated them. The cold seeped through the glass and into her own cell.

Footsteps sounded and the guards returned, having heard the chaos of the werewolf's rampage subsiding to quiet. They must have now felt safe to return to the bottom floor cell block. When they saw what had been done, they let out ecstatic whoops and cheers.

"It's over, people! The werewolf is _dead_!" the greasy haired guard- who had given Marcel the truth serum- shouted in triumph.

"This was your doing, wasn't it?" another asked Marcel in an interrogating tone. "We saw that full-body _Geler _curse you just performed with no wand. We saw it on Mirror surveillance! You're not allowed to perform wandless magic here. _But_\- we'll make an exception in this case!"

"You're useful after all, Clement. Enjoy your victory while you still _live_!"

The guards drew their wands and began their work of repairing the glass walls. They repaired LeLoup's empty enclosure first, sealing all the broken shards of glass within a minute. After that wall was fixed, they couldn't help but stare in awe at the frozen wolf. Its large body was positioned half-in and half-out of Marcel's enclosure, the entire front wall shattered. They glanced at each other a moment before deciding to seal the glass around the ice statue, as if it were to become a permanent fixture.

"You can be proud now, Clement!" one of them said.

"My guess is that in a few hours, you'll have a dead man's frozen body embedded next to you!" mocked the second guard. "Congratulations."

Agathe's heart went out to Marcel as she heard a sob come from the young man. Marcel turned his head away to avoid looking at the spectacle. In any other circumstance, there was certainly beauty in a solid, white-and-crystal-clear ice sculpture of a large wolf. It was a view that any _Sans-Magie_ human might consider art.

But for Marcel, the statue meant only one thing. _Murder._

"Marcel, dear?" Agathe spoke gently, when the guards were gone.

"What?" came a hoarse, tearful response.

"Could you undo your freezing curse? If he thaws soon, is it possible he may be all right?"

"All I know is that the full-body curse is fatal, because it freezes the heart. I've only...I tried it on someone once before. Sauvageon. He mastered the counter shield for it. Otherwise, I could've killed Sauvageon with it. Thankfully I didn't," Marcel told her in despair.

"If you thaw him, do think he may have a chance?" Agathe asked him. "I believe you must _try,_" she demanded firmly.

"_Arrêt_," Marcel said in a tearful whisper, and the ice statue began to melt, the water running to the floor and evaporating in mists.

LeLoup's standing, lunging form was turned back to flesh, bone and fur- a ghastly, stiff creature, like an animal preserved in taxidermy and mounted within the wall of glass. It remained lifeless, the eyes glassy. Marcel gasped in horror. LeLoup looked worse now.

"I cast_ Pétrifier, _and my healing and strength charms on him, Marcel!" Agathe said quickly, as if she hadn't wanted to give him this information but decided to change her mind to console him. "I cast it at the same moment you cast _Geler_. Please, have faith, dear. He may come back. He may come alive!"

"Why didn't you cast _P__étrifier _before he started to attack me_?_" Marcel raged at the old woman. "If you had the ability all along, why didn't you just _do _it? Why did you wait?"

"We are in _prison, _dear_._ We aren't typically allowed to curse our fellow inmates, even without wands," Agathe tried to explain. "I didn't want to use my great powers to fight your battle, Marcel. I decided to wait...and let _you_ fight him and decide which curse to use. When I saw you cast the wrong spell- the lethal freezing spell _Geler _instead of the less harmful _Pétrifier_\- I had no choice but to intervene and try to cover your mistake _and_ keep you from getting mauled to death. I had to save _you_. But...I may have acted a split second too late for poor Monsieur LeLoup."

Her incriminating words were delivered in as gentle, as loving a tone as Agathe could possibly utter. It didn't make a difference. Marcel's rage reached a fevered pitch; he began to curse and swear.

"You could have saved him! You- _putain de sorcière_!" he screamed, tears welling in his eyes. "Because you waited to help me, you caused me to KILL someone! _Va te f__ai__re foutre!" _

Agathe restrained her urge to say _Language, dear-_ knowing the man had reached his breaking point. She watched Marcel's chest rise and fall as he lay, exhausted and spent. A tear trickled from the corner of his eye. He looked so young, so vulnerable. She was unsure of what to say to him for now. She wasn't even certain what the next hours would bring, and she would find out whether or not her magic was still powerful enough.

She decided to ask Marcel a probing question. "Marcel, have you ever been able to revive an animal? Have you ever brought a dead animal to life?"

"Yes," he replied, recalling Adelaide. "I revived a small cat. Brought a dead kitten to life for a friend of mine. My _Sans-Magie_ friend...it was one of the charges against me." He sniffled. If Adelaide ever learned he was a killer...

"LeLoup is still in animal form right now," said Agathe.

"No! It's impossible, because Robert is still a human. If I ever listened to any teachers back in school, I distinctly remember Professeur Pepin saying that werewolves are still humans, and if they die in their cursed forms- you cannot bring them to life! Only a true _animal_ can be revived! Not a human if he was a human in essence! Are you a fool?"

"My powers supercede those rules, and I have been able to do such...Prince Adam. Your sister_."_

"Of course! That's because you've always put yourself _above_ the laws of Magic and Nature!" Marcel shouted, wiping a tear from his cheek. "I don't want to hear anything you say!"

A larger group of six guards returned to their cell block once more. It was the usual two, accompanied by four others.

"_Well!_ Looks like this fellow decided to thaw it out," said the guard who'd been there previously. "Can't blame him, the thing was damned cold. Not a good idea, we'll have to do a removal soon. We'd better wait to see if it transforms to human, in respect to Lefebrve's family members. It might not."

"Cause of death?"

"_Geler_ _le Corps _curse. Clement here seems to be a master of it. Not bad." He smirked at Marcel. "Nothing to cry about, I'd say!"

"Wait, now! What happened to that young woman?" another demanded as he glanced in Agathe's direction. "Who are _you_? You look at least eighty and on death's door, Madame!"

"I am the _same _woman," Agathe said feebly. "Stress and nightmares caused me to age overnight."

"Agathe is said to be an Age-Shifter," said the greasy haired guard. "Not many Enchanters have this Gift. It's rare. They say she used that skill to trick the _Sans-Magie _prince before turning him into a bison-beast for years."

"You are a legend, Mademoiselle! Too bad it's illegal."

"Word has it that Our Lord Minister will make the kinds of things Agathe did _legal_ now," one of the guards said in a low voice. "For the sake of Domination."

"_Hear, hear_!" the greasy guard said merrily. "Let's go up and get a drink. _Merci,_ Clement!" he called back to Marcel. "We ought to fix your wall. Unless you _want_ him to remain there as your trophy. Do you?"

The six guards looked at Marcel for a response; he didn't answer. He faced away from everyone, his eyes closed, silently weeping.

"Very well, then." The men pointed their wands and opened the glass wall. They levitated the stiff body of the wolf, moving him up and across the hallway to his own cell. A hole was opened in the glass, the carcass-like form of LeLoup was laid on the hard floor, and the wall was resealed.

When they left and all was quiet, Agathe could still hear the man on the other side sniffling, choking back tears. She wasn't sure what to say; it would be about five hours until the next day dawned, and she hoped both of them could get some sleep. She doubted it. Agathe whispered a sleep charm to Marcel, and his despair gave way to slumber. No guards came to offer sleeping potions this night.

The next day could bring even more horror- or hope that Marcel hadn't killed his new friend after all.

She had indeed cast _Pétrifier _on LeLoup that same moment he was frozen, along with her healing and strength charms before Marcel cast the full-body _Geler le Corps. _She would need to wait until the dawn of morning, when the stiff body would hopefully transform back into a man. By then, Agathe would learn for certain whether she had been able to save Robert's life- or not.

...


	6. Back in the Hotel

Chapter 6- Back in the Hotel

…

Aloysius was sleeping deeply in his room around two in the morning, until he was awakened by a crash. His teacup and saucer had fallen to the floor next to his bed.

He assumed and feared the noise was caused by a more threatening Magical human presence. When he lit up the tip of his wand, he saw it was only a small grey rodent, sitting amongst the broken shards of a plate and eating the remains of a cookie.

"_Merlin's sake_!" he exclaimed in surprise, still not rising up. "The last thing I want in my new place is vermin!"

He considered killing the mouse with his wand for a moment, but instead used the _P__étrifier _spell to knock the small animal out and render it still. He considered the fact that wherever there was one rodent, there were more, and thus he needed the help of Adelaide's cat. He'd worry about cat hair later.

After rising from bed and carefully stepping over sharp shards of glass, the wizard opened his door to go into the hall and to Adelaide's room.

He was not alone in the hallway.

Someone else was fumbling with Adelaide's door, trying to open it after she'd wisely kept it locked. He saw it to be a well-dressed man in a dark navy coat and black breeches, fairly tall of stature. His back was to Aloysius. Out of pure curiosity, he watched him, keeping silent.

_What man would be trying to get in to visit her at this hour of night? _

For a moment, his protective fatherly instincts raged, and he braced to attack the intruder, hand on his wand. He saw the man give a gentle knock on her door with his knuckle. The fellow was wearing a hat with a wide brim, which made him difficult to identify from behind.

A sting of disappointment met Aloysius. Could Adelaide be inviting this man in voluntarily? Despite her sweetness and seeming purity of character, she might be entertaining lovers during the wee hours of the night! Or was she so desperate for money...would she sink that low?

But that theory disappeared when he saw the other man pull out a wand and point it at the doorknob with a low hiss of '_S'ouvrir!'_ under his breath. The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

Aloysius' fingers around his wand handle tightened and his heart rate rose. He moved forward a few steps to catch up with the intruder and followed him into Adelaide's room.

The man's wand tip illuminated to see the woman sleeping in her bed, her face buried peacefully in a pillow. The posture of the man in the hat, the way he was trying to sneak up to her with stealth, all meant he was up to no good. Aloysius decided to speak up.

"_What are you doing?_" he shouted.

The intruder jerked his head back in response. Aloysius recognized the handsome profile, fair beard and Roman nose of Alexis Sauvageon.

The Minister's officer whirled around to face Aloysius completely.

"_Fumée!" _

Before Aloysius could utter a defending spellword, he was blinded by thick smoke pouring from the end of Sauvageon's wand, stinging his eyes and making him cough. He heard Adelaide awaken with a cough, then a cry of alarm.

"_Fire!"_ she shrieked. "_Is anyone here?_ _Please_…" Her words were choked out by her coughs.

Aloysius could barely see her in the growing smoke. He heard the other man growl out the word "_Effacer," _the spellword most commonly used to obliterate one's memory.

_Oh no you don't,_ he thought.

Through the smoke he spotted the glint of a brass button on the bottom hem of the intruder's breeches. He gave a chopping motion with his wand, aiming at the brass button with as much precision as he could, shouting the same spell he'd used on the rodent.

"_P__étrifier!"_

Sauvageon fell to the floor with a thump, his body stiff as if he were dead.

"_Pur! Pur!' _Aloysius, still coughing, swept his wand wildly over the room. The smoke dissipated away; the middle-aged wizard heaved in a relieved breath of fresh air.

When the room was cleared, Adelaide screamed at the sight of what appeared to be a dead man lying stiff on the floor. Aloysius rushed to her, putting an arm around her shoulder.

"Please, dear, calm down," he said, panting and coughing after the exertion of the wand fight and the smoke lingering in his throat and lungs. "He's not dead, I had to petrify him."

"Monsieur, did you put the fire out?" Adelaide said, wheezing.

"Yes, Adelaide. I put the fire out."

"Oh! Thank you! Who...where am I?" Adelaide's sleepy and red-eyed face was a mass of confusion. "What _is_ this place?" She fixed her eyes upon her friend. "Monsieur Aloysius? What are _you_ doing here? You never joined us on the trip to the castle! And why am I in this strange room?"

"Adelaide, what castle are you speaking of?"

"Prince Adam's castle. At least that's where I _thought_ I was...wait, _what_?" She looked around, blinking her watery eyes. "Who's that man on the floor? Did you hurt him?"

Aloysius' heart sank. Sauvageon's spell of memory erasure had hit its target.

"He was...trying to help me put out the fire," Aloysius said, the only thing he could think of from the top of his head in this situation.

"Oh. Thank you so much for putting out the fire. You gentlemen both saved me!" She forced a grateful little smile that faded once she took a better look at the man's still position. "Are you _sure_ he's alive?" she said in distress.

_What do do, what to do?_ Aloysius' potion master expertise told him there _was_ hope to help Adelaide. He only needed to acquire a feather from a specific type of blue songbird as soon as he could, for a memory restoration potion. Fortunately, he'd heard them twittering around Paris.

"He _is_ alive. I'll take him to a doctor. You stay here in bed."

"Why is he looking so...stiff?"

"The smoke...it injured him. Go back to sleep," Aloysius tried to placate her.

"What? I can't do that." Adelaide coughed again, and then lifted herself wearily out of bed. She bent to take a better look at the stiff-bodied man lying on the floor. Lorette the cat came out from her hiding spot beneath Adelaide's bed and sniffed at the fellow's clothes. Her tail waved stiffly, with a sense of high alert.

"Lorette! Who brought _you_ into the castle? I thought I left you in the carriage before!" Adelaide exclaimed, taking her eyes off the man on the floor for only an instant.

"Do you recognize him, Adelaide?" Aloysius asked, trying to gauge the extent of her Obliteration.

She squinted, bending down to look at Sauvageon's face, with his blond beard and dirty-blond hair pulled into a sleek ponytail.

"His skin is too rosy for him to be really dead...Hmm. I think he looks kind of like the other coachman who was driving His Honor's carriage. He's friends with Marcel, I think. I'm not sure you've met either of them, Monsieur."

"Either of _whom_, Adelaide?" he asked.

Adelaide scowled in irritation. "The two coachmen! Why does that _matter_, Monsieur Aloysius, when we have a bigger problem? I have to find Emilie, because her fiancé has just been falsely accused of murder and locked up. Prince Adam made a terrible mistake!"

Aloysius took a deep breath, grasping at just how to handle this. "Adelaide...what month or day is it right now?"

"Why do you ask? Late June?"

_He erased many weeks,_ Aloysius thought. Whatever it was that Sauvageon wanted to Obliterate from her memory, it happened in that time frame.

He bent over and pretended to take Sauvageon's pulse. He wanted to keep him in this state, and fortunately he was to _remain_ in that state for either six to eight hours or until the counter spell was given. Which Aloysius was in no hurry to do.

"He's going to be all right," Aloysius said after letting go of the man's wrist. "Would you mind just...letting him lie there for a while? Grab a pillow and put it under the poor fellow's head, would you please?"

Adelaide obliged, taking a pillow from her bed and gingerly placing it beneath Sauvageon's head. She even went so far as to cover him with her blanket before gazing at him for a moment.

"He's sort of handsome, actually. I wouldn't mind taking care of him- even though his _friend_ was the man I really care for…"

_Oh, Merlin. _She truly had no idea who this man was. Nor any memory of what he'd done to her and to Marcel.

Lorette hissed at Sauvageon's still form, her ears, back, and tail standing up. "Lorette, stop!" Adelaide chided the cat before eyeing her friend with distress.

"Monsieur Aloysius, you still haven't told me where we are! Is this another room in Prince Adam's castle? I feel...strange. Like I've been sleeping for too long. I'm sure that before I went to sleep, I was with Monsieur Lumiere and Madame Plumette in their little suite. I thought I'd been sleeping on their sofa..."

Aloysius shook his head. "Adelaide.._.no_. You're not in the Prince's castle any longer. And it's not June. It's the end of summer...you're right. You _have_ been in a deep sleep, for weeks."

It was just a little white lie. He wasn't sure if she still had any knowledge of the existence of magic, or Enchanted people, at this point. Did she even know _he_ was a wizard?

"Oh...where's Emilie?"

"She's married to Gaston now. They're making a new home here in the city. They even have a little apartment."

"But I thought she was going to marry Monsieur Luc! Who's Gaston?"

Aloysius rapped a knuckle to his head and corrected himself. "Ah, sorry. I meant Monsieur Luc. But his _real_ name is Gaston. It's the same man, don't worry. Tall, strong, black haired fellow. I helped cure his smallpox scars."

"I don't understand why he changed his name. If his name was Gaston, why didn't he go by it?"

"It's a long story."

"You cured Emilie's smallpox scars, too! You're a talented medicine maker, Aloysius." Her demeanor began to perk up. "So that means...the misunderstanding about him murdering the Prince...it was cleared up, then? He's innocent?"

Aloysius smiled awkwardly. "It was all taken care of, it's all in the past. He's no longer locked in the Prince's dungeon, and everyone is now here in the city."

"So, where are we now?"

"This is L'Hotel de Brumagne in Paris. The hotel owned by the Marquis de Brumagne, of course."

She went to a window and looked out into the streets below. "The hotel that Luc- well, _Gaston_\- and our cousin Clémence's husband helped build. So what happened to me, to fall in a deep sleep for so long?" she asked, rubbing her forehead with confusion.

He shrugged. "Illness. An unfortunate illness. How are you feeling now?"

"Better...I suppose." She coughed a little. "Still some smoke in my throat from the fire. But I can't rest. Not with this...poor man lying on the floor. We should lift him into my bed. I'm fairly sure he's the carriage driver who was Marcel's friend."

"Yes," Aloysius said, trying to hide his inward cringe. "Do you remember his name?"

"Marcel called him 'Alexis' during the journey to the castle. Aloysius- have you _seen _Marcel? Did you ever meet him, anyway? Maybe you didn't. If you did, do you know if he ended up staying at the castle to visit his sister? Madame Plumette is his sister. She's such a nice lady."

Aloysius frowned. It would do no good to tell her the truth at this moment.

"I do know him, but...I honestly don't know where he went," He regretted the lie the moment the words left his lips.

"I hope I keep in touch with him again. I hope he didn't see me getting sick! I likely humiliated myself in front of him," she said sadly.

Aloysius saw a blush come over her cheeks. Whenever the cutoff point had occurred where Sauvageon had Obliterated her memory, he could tell that Adelaide had not only befriended Marcel Clement before that point, but she'd developed feelings for him.

That was a good sign.

"Should we move him to the bed, then?" Aloysius suggested, gesturing down to the supine, stiff form of Alexis Sauvageon.

"Yes, let's do that. Poor man, we need to get a doctor," said Adelaide. "He risked himself to save me from a fire, it's the least we can do." She took hold of Sauvageon's ankles, while Aloysius took hold of his armpits. Together, they hoisted him to her bed. His face was expressionless and his eyes were closed, and he could have passed as a corpse if one hadn't looked closely. Aloysius watched her arrange blankets over the 'patient.'

"I can get help. I know a doctor I can consult," Aloysius lied again. Any _Sans-Magie_ doctor would not understand the condition of _P__étrifier_. He hoped to hide him in his own room, but not for very long. Surely the man's colleagues could come searching for him if he was missing from his work; the question was _when._

Aloysius pondered what transformative spell he could set upon Sauvageon that would evade their Mirror searches. He came up with absolutely none. He could try turning him into a rat, a spider, even an inanimate object- and a Magic Mirror could still identify him, no matter what.

The last thing he wanted was for Minister Bertrand himself to show up at L'Hotel de Brumagne.

"We should leave him alone and go to my place, dear. I work here now, it's right next door," Aloysius said, trying to conceal his heightening stress.

"I think I just want to go back to the Marquis' estate soon," said Adelaide. "This room is strange, and- what on _earth_ is that horrible smell?" She clapped her hand over her nose. "Something or someone IS dead!"

The fly larvae in the bowl. _Merlin! _Sauvageon's blasted _Fum__é__e_ probably killed all of them!

Aloysius strode over and looked into the smelly copper bowl. Relief washed over him. The greenish insects were now winged, still feasting upon a dead mouse and the leafy shoot of a plant that he'd started. Hardy little creatures, the Chrysopes were. They were almost mature. Soon he'd have to keep the Chrysope flies contained. They would eventually die with their short lifespans- giving their bodies up for the sake of potion.

"It's only flies...and a dead mouse. Yes, we ought to leave this room, dear. Straight away." he urged.

"Yes, please," she replied with a shudder, stepping down to gather Lorette in her arms. The cat's tail remained stiff and alert; she stared at Sauvageon with suspicion. Aloysius led Adelaide out to the hall and back into his much more elegant room.

"This is where I'm staying now," he told her. "I've moved on up from a dishwasher at the Marquis' place, to a concierge here," he told her, realizing he was going to have to put a lid on his powers until he learned more of what she knew of it.

"It's a nice place. But why did you leave the Marquis and his family?"

"I didn't care to be a dishwasher all my life. Needed more money," Aloysius immediately replied, priding himself on his ability to think like a _Sans-Magie. _"Plus I have...my hidden talent. Do you know what that is?"

She smiled in warm recollection. "Your medicines! How you healed Emilie and Luc!"

"His real name is Gaston," Aloysius corrected. "Do you know of...er, any _other_ people you've met recently who have...hidden or unusual talents?"

Adelaide gave him a puzzled look. "No, not really."

"Marcel doesn't?" Aloysius pressed, hopeful.

"He's good at controlling his horses," she recalled. "He was _very _good at finding my silly cat every time she ran away. And he knows his way around the roads of France, but I guess that's expected of a coachman, isn't it?" said Adelaide.

Aloysius muttered '_Damn!_' under his breath as he turned away from the girl.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Adelaide," Aloysius said with a forced smile.

"Why would you think Marcel has unusual talents?" Adelaide asked. "Is there something you know about him that I don't?"

Aloysius fumbled. "I only casually know the man. Rarely see him much. I do know his mother." Aloysius said.

The moment he mentioned Marcel's mother, it was as if a lamp flickered on in his brain. _Madame Sabine!_ She was a skilled potions brewer. But now, with a tyrant ruling Magical France, he feared Sabine may have tried to flee the country. She was what they called a _Sang-Sale_. A Magical with a significant percentage of Sans-Magie blood.

He had to find her. Perhaps she had a Memory Restoration Potion in her home...

"Really? That's nice. Maybe I could meet his mother." Adelaide was saying. "But speaking of family, Aloysius, can you tell me where Emilie and Lu- _Gaston_ live now, so I can visit them? If I've been in a coma for weeks, she must be worried about me. I even missed their wedding! I feel terrible," she added, her voice breaking in realization.

"I don't know where they live. I apologize."

"Then I _need_ to at least go back to visit my Maman and Papa since I'm back in the city! And when I visit them, I can find out where Emilie lives!" Adelaide said firmly. "I _can't _waste time here. And can you _please_ get a doctor for that poor sick man? Honestly, Monsieur, he looks stone-dead and he's giving me the willies." She shuddered.

"Yes, I can...but if you see any of the hotel managers here, they may not let you leave."

"Why is that?"

"You're supposed to be employed here now, as a cleaning maid."

"_What?_" Adelaide's voice rose an octave. "How can I be employed if I've been in a damned _coma_?"

"They were desperate for help?" Aloysius said with an innocent shrug.

"_Ugh!_" she huffed. "_Goodbye, _Monsieur, I have to get to my parents' place!"

With her cat in her arms, Adelaide bustled out of the room. It was still dim, early morning in a strange hotel hallway. Small torchlights lit the walls, and she could see an elegant staircase landing at the end.

As she walked toward the staircase, she passed a gilded mirror on a vanity table. The table held two candelabras, a wine bottle, and glasses. She noticed movement, a person in a white nightgown walking beside her. Adelaide gave a startled shriek- before she realized it was only her reflection.

She'd basically just rolled out of bed, the reflection confirmed. She was in no shape to be running around the middle of the city, much less trying to hail a cab to her folks' place. Her brown hair was an untidy mess of waves past her shoulders, and she wore sleep clothes- a wrinkled white cotton long nightgown and pantalettes, no shoes, no brassiere. Plain indecent.

"_Merde_!" Adelaide cussed, something she typically didn't do. Groaning with exasperation, she had no choice but to head back to the strange room, where Stiff Man lay in the strange bed, in order to acquire some damned street clothes.

She found her way back to the door- at least she _thought_ it was the right door. Opening it, she was aware of decent furnishings and a canopied bed, not the drab one she'd been in when she awakened to this odd situation. She had no candle, and thus needed to fumble around in the dark.

Within a moment the door opened, and someone came in with a flickering candle in his hand.

"Who-"

"_Adelaide_?"

"Monsieur Aloysius!" she said, relieved it was him. "Unfortunately...I have a problem. I want to leave this place as soon as I can, but I need to get dressed first, obviously."

Her cheeks burned with both frustration and the awareness that despite Aloysius being just her casual friend and coworker, he'd been seeing her in nightclothes. He _was_ a man, no matter how safe and familiar.

"Whatever is most comfortable for you," said the wizard.

"And...well, so all the clothes that I might have are in the _other_ room, and that's now occupied by, um...a half-dead gentleman. Is it possible for me to acquire some of my things and change _alone_, without either of you men here?"

"But of course," said Aloysius kindly. "Here, let me take your feline friend for a moment." He motioned for her to give Lorette to him.

"She's a bit skittish," Adelaide said, putting the cat in his arms. She turned to walk away, and suddenly felt different- as if she were being squeezed by fabric.

"Are you certain you're undressed, though? You look ready for a trip."

"What?"

She looked down and was perplexed to see that she was now wearing a burgundy red dress instead of a white nightgown. Running her hands down her tummy, she felt the firmness of laced-up stays beneath the fabric, and all of the other things she needed to be wearing to go out in public. Even her hair felt different. It was neater, curled in ringlets and secured with combs. On her right arm was her favorite pink pocketbook. She opened it, finding that it jingled with plenty of coins.

"I hope you have a nice journey. It's morning now, and I would guess there are cabs and carriages making their rounds," Aloysius said, glancing at his clock.

Adelaide was confuddled. How had she imagined not being dressed, and here she was, all ready to go? Perhaps her mind was still foggy from the coma.

She noticed Aloysius' golden-plated clock and other fine furniture in his small suite. If he was only a dishwasher and now a hotel concierge, where did he get the money to have all this?

"Monsieur, how can you afford a clock like that?"

"That's a personal question, is it not?"

"Are you secret royalty?" she asked, smiling a little as if teasing.

"None of your concern, Mademoiselle," he said, though a smile formed on his lips. He still held Lorette in his arms; the cat was calm and peaceful, trusting the man's grip.

"Well...thank you for your help, Monsieur Aloysius," Adelaide said. "I'm glad I woke up and at least found _one_ friend here. Thank you for putting out the fire...there _was_ a fire, wasn't there?"

"Yes," Aloysius confirmed. "Now, please hurry out of this hotel, before your employers catch you going _absent sans permission." _

"I will! If you don't mind, I'll leave my cat with you for a while. She won't be a problem, I promise. _Adieu!_"

She headed out of the kind gentleman's room and back down the same hallway, where she encountered that mirrored table with the wine and glasses. She stopped for a moment to check her reflection.

She was smartly dressed. The dark red dress- _do I even own this dress? _she pondered- was simple yet elegant. Her hair and makeup were done. If a cab carriage driver saw her, he would surely stop under the assumption she was a respectable lady of society. A businessman's wife, perhaps. Certainly not a dumpy slob of a cleaning maid.

"I _look_ all right, I guess," she told herself out loud, surveying her appearance. "I only wish being in a coma for weeks without food would've made me slender!"

As an afterthought in all these bizarre circumstances, Adelaide looked down at the wine bottle on the fine Rococo table.

"I might need this, come to think of it." She snatched the wine bottle, and rushed down the stairs.

…

Aloysius immediately went back into the neighboring room next door, now abandoned by Adelaide and occupied by a stone-stiff Alexis Sauvageon, whom the girl had thoughtfully covered with the blanket up to his neck. She'd even fluffed the pillow for the scoundrel.

He sat there for a long time, contemplating what to do. "My dear cousin Alexis-" he said aloud in exasperation, "How in Good Merlin's sake am I going to hide you? And your blasted _wand_?"

Sauvageon's wand lay on the floor right where he'd dropped it. Aloysius now had it in his possession. His Magic Mirror must also be on his person as well. How else could he have found Adelaide?

Aloysius pulled down the blanket and took note of his younger second-cousin's fine clothes- a dark blue coat over an ivory waistcoat with brass buttons. A lace-edged cravat was tied around his neck. Being petrified, his entire body was stiff as a board.

Inside his overcoat liner, Aloysius found Sauvageon's Mirror pocket. He patted it down to find the Magical oracle and pulled it out, along with a leather wallet containing Magical currency of shiny gold paper. He also found a little white business card with black ink lettering. It read _Alexis Xavier Sauvageon, Chief Law Officer, Le Ministère. _

"_Oui,_ there is no doubt that it's you, Alexis." On a whim, he fumbled in the unfortunate man's other pocket, where he found a bag of powder.

"This is curious," he whispered, pulling the little satchel out. When he saw what it was, he shouted a cry of glee.

"_Yes!_ Thank you Great Merlin, and Good King Arthur!" He kissed the satchel. _This_ was what he needed. The most important element of his plan, and now it had literally fallen in his lap from the pocket of Sauvageon himself!

After he rejoiced a moment, he noticed Sauvageon's wand on the floor near his stiff body. He wanted so badly to fling it out the window. If some random _Sans-Magie_ picked it up on the street, it would be useless to them but dangerous when Sauvageon became De-Petrified and wished to retrieve it.

It would be safer to throw it out of the populated area completely, he thought with a grin.

Aloysius collected the other man's wand, strode to the window and opened the shutters wide. He threw the wand as far as he could, while pointing his own wand in its direction. "_Monter en flèche!"_ he commanded.

Sauvageon's wand- which had been falling to the street below- shot up into the higher atmosphere until it disappeared behind a sunlit morning cloud. It would fall back to earth, but not in Paris. Most likely, it would land somewhere near Chateau-Thierry or Montmirail.

Aloysius picked up Sauvageon's personal Magic Mirror again. It was larger, more ornate than his own. Out of curiosity and part fear, he decided to observe those who would soon come searching for its owner.

"Show me the activity of Minister Bartholomé Bertrand!"

...

_Bertrand sat in his office. His desk was placed in front of a great portrait of himself, festooned by blue banners. A gentleman stood before him at his desk, his hands outstretched in confusion._

"_When was the last time you saw him, Roux?" the Minister demanded._

"_Immediately after your speech, Your Honor!" Roux insisted._

_'I prefer the title 'Lord,' Roux. Not 'Your Honor.' Bertrand said in a low, menacing tone._

"_Pardon me, Lord Minister. He was supposed to report to your Office yesterday morning and turn in his wand for analysis! Did he say anything before he left the rally?"_

"_Just that he was tired, that is all. He looked to be under stress."_

_Bertrand furrowed his brow. "Well, then! I am very disappointed. My educated guess is that Alexis' activities are not as impeccable as we may think. There is something that he's hiding from me, if he failed to show up!"_

"_Yes, Your...my Lord," said Roux. Bertrand smiled contentedly before asking his next question._

"_Do you have a list of all the guilty Enchanters whom he personally sent to La Maison pour Crimes Noirs this year? I know that he's been quite efficient as far as number of people jailed. He never fails to remind me that he was the one to nab Agathe." _

"_I can conjure it now, My Lord." Roux flicked his wand, and the official paper appeared in his hand. _

"_Read me the names, beginning from the most recent back to the first of this year."_

"_Raoul Sainte-Marie, your former press man. Jean-Michel Travers. Madeleine Roux- my own sister-in-law, mind you-"_

"_I do NOT care!" snapped Bertrand. "She's said to be Sang-Sale. Your brother is unfortunate to have such a wife. Go on!"_

"_I'm sorry...there's Jacques Verreaux, the man who tried to profit by exhibiting Mythical creatures to Sans-Magies and collecting their money."_

"_Of course," sniffed Bertrand. "What a fool. Who else?"_

"_Marcel Clement, the spy. Alexis had him for hire."_

"_He is the son of Philippe Clement. An old friend of mine, Philippe was. He was respectable. Apparently his son isn't. What was the charge?" _

"_Exposure, for one. Casting spells in front of forbidden eyes, and Alexis caught him in a friendly situation with a Sans-Magie, possibly a romantic pursuit."_

"_Some people's children," Bertrand said with a shake of his head. "Good old Philippe...he was said to have sired a Defective daughter, because his wife was discovered to be half Sang-Sale. Just like your brother, Roux. The family disgrace sent him to an early grave. Who else?" _

"_Agathe Ophelie Sauvageon, naturally, my Lord," Roux smiled knowingly as he studied the list._

"_Agathe. YES!" Bertrand grinned and clapped a fist in his palm. "Better than a game-winning Boule de Plume catch! We cannot let that woman go. What I want you to do now, Roux, is report down to the prison. Forget reading me this whole damned list. Take it with with you. With the exceptions of Agathe, and that fool Verreaux who was proven to have creatures- I want you to order the prison staff to administer Truth Serum to all of the others."_

"_Yes, Lord Minister. You do not trust Sauvageon's word?"_

"_No. I can't trust Sauvageon any longer. I worry he might be locking up the wrong people, since it was his word only. We have to force these prisoners to tell the truth, and if they confess under the potion, they stay. If not, they are free."_

"_Yes, My Lord."_

"_One more thing. If any of them confess under Serum that they are of undesirable ancestry, one-eighth Sang-Sale or worse, they shall be put to starvation."_

"_Yes, my Lord Minister," Roux said with a hoarse voice, his body tensing. "Should I...search my Mirror for Alexis, as well?"_

"_Yes. If you pick up his whereabouts, go there and fetch him. He will be sent to La Maison for disobeying me."_

_..._

Aloysius sobered as he listened to the two men conduct their schemes. He needed to get himself far, far away from Sauvageon's still body. Aloysius himself could be the next to go to that dreaded prison. Relocating and abandoning his post at this hotel was his only option.

Yet, innocent _Sans-Magie _people were in danger if Sauvageon continued to lay here. Aloysius was not cruel enough to allow the man to risk being buried alive if wizards didn't find him soon enough.

He let the scene in the Mirror fade as he considered his options.

...

_A.N.- __Thank you to The Green Archer and Onceuponymous from B&S for their brainstorming advice! -Civilwarrose_


	7. Visit with Madame Sabine

Chapter 7 - Visit with Madame Sabine

...

Aloysius worked the concierge desk that day, friendly and cordial to the _Sans-Magie_ guests while he exchanged nervous glances with Toulouse, the bellboy. When his shift ended, he and Toulouse went upstairs to Aloysius' floor.

"What's wrong? You're making me think this hotel isn't a safe haven anymore," the boy said in a whisper.

Toulouse was only eighteen years old, a recent graduate of France's great Académie. Not only was he considered _Sang-Sale,_ but both of his parents were _Sans-Magies_ of humble means. He'd inherited his magic from a grandfather. Naturally, his status made him an eager member of the Enchanted Rebel Army.

"It isn't a safe haven at all," said Aloysius. He led Toulouse to what had been Adelaide's room and opened the door, pointing his wand in defense as he and Toulouse both peered inside.

Sauvageon was still there, lying stone-stiff. The stench of death from the copper bowl, which still nursed the Chrysope flies, hung in the air. The flies had reached maturity, they could hear them buzzing.

"What happened? Was he someone important?" the boy whispered with shock.

"He's not dead, he's petrified. I had to do it."

"What was he doing in Adelaide's room? Is he a wizard?"

"Not just _any_ wizard. One of Bertrand's chief law officers. I put up a fight, but he cursed Adelaide! I sent her away to find her family," said Aloysius.

Toulouse gasped. "_Sans-Magies_ will think there's a dead body in Adelaide's room! You'd better rethink this, Monsieur."

_Good Merlin! _Aloysius thought. If another hotel employee found Alexis Sauvageon lying there, flies and all, poor Adelaide might be mistakenly suspected of murder!

"Toulouse- you better leave now. I'm going to let him come to. I've already cast away his wand, so let's hope he's confused when he awakens."

"I'm out of here," said the nervous boy, backing away and running down the hall.

Pointing his wand at the unconscious man, Aloysius whispered, "_Arrêter la Pétrification." _For a split second, Aloysius watched Sauvageon's eyes open and blink.

To collect his flies, Aloysius waved his wand again, and the little swarm of green Chrysope flies soared to him, as if he were their master. They flew out the door and buzzed in circles around him.

When Aloysius was confident that Sauvageon was coming to, he rushed down the hallway with a carpetbag in one hand and Lorette the cat in the other, surrounded by his swarm of flies. He caught up with Toulouse in the stairwell and clutched his arm with a tight grip.

"We're going to the Third Quartier neighborhood. Come with me."

After making certain there were no other souls in sight, the two wizards, the cat, and the flies all vanished from the hotel.

A moment later they reappeared on the street, in the neighborhood of the Third Quartier where Madame Sabine lived. It was where Adelaide had said _her_ parents lived as well. Perhaps he'd find her later.

"Toulouse, if you don't mind, I want you to find Adelaide and keep watch on her. She's been cursed with memory obliteration."

"That's not good."

"She needs potion. As soon as I can acquire some, she needs to see me. Make up a story, whatever you can do to get her back to me. I'll be visiting Madame Sabine, my fellow potions expert, for the next few hours," Aloysius ordered. "Do you live near here?"

"_Oui_, this is close to my parents' place," the boy replied, fumbling in his coat pocket for his own small Magic Mirror. "I'll look for Adelaide right now. I'll talk to her when I find her."

"Good luck. I will talk to you when I can, son. _Merci_."

Aloysius and the young wizard parted ways. He decided to call upon Madame Sabine's place, to check on her. He held the desperate hope she possessed the potions he now needed. Using his Mirror for confirmation, he vaguely remembered that she lived on the thirteen-hundred block of Rue Madeleine.

While he walked, he tried to ignore the dismissive looks of people perplexed by a man with a swarm of green flies circling him, carrying a golden cat and an ugly old carpetbag.

Aloysius used to the looks. It had been worse back when he used to Age-Shift himself to an elderly peddler with a cartful of rotten apples. He'd been the brunt of neighborhood children's' ridicule then.

He soon found the brownstone structure, number 1344 Rue Madeleine. Blossoms of violet, lavender, blue, and white flowers were displayed at every window and in planters on either side of the door. He knocked.

Aloysius could only imagine the grief Madame Sabine must be feeling. Her only son, locked away and condemned to starvation. Perhaps not even alive anymore.

A girl of about thirteen years old answered the door. She had dark curly hair, pretty brown eyes, and the light brown complexion of a mixed African-European heritage. Marcel had spoken of a beloved sister, but she was about thirty, he recalled. That sister had been the non-Magical maid whom Agathe had cursed in Prince Adam's castle.

Perhaps this child was _another_ sister of Marcel's, Aloysius assumed. Her resemblance to the imprisoned man was striking, even on a little girl.

"Hello, Monsieur," the girl greeted shyly, keeping the door open only a crack.

"I've come to speak to Madame Sabine. Is she home?"

"I cannot let you in unless you can answer our question," she said soberly, eyeing him with suspicion. "At the Great Académie, what sculpture sits in the study lounge of the House of the Butterfly?"

"A large mermaid," Aloysius replied.

The girl smiled. "What is the sculpture made of?"

"Amethyst. Deep purple, the official color of the House of the Butterfly. It was my division when I was a schoolboy. The lounge's furniture is purple and lavender, and there are butterfly motifs around the room. It was a beautiful place."

She withdrew from the door a moment and then nodded, turning back to him. "There's one more thing my Auntie wants me to ask you. May I see your wand?"

Aloysius took his wand from his pocket. The child looked at it nervously, afraid to touch it. She carefully put her pointer finger on the wand tip, wincing. Then, she gripped it with her whole hand.

"Your wand didn't burn my skin. That means you're safe! You may come in, _si vous plait._"

"I'm proud of you for your caution, Mademoiselle," Aloysius told her kindly.

"Auntie Sabine! There's a gentleman at the door! He answered my questions right and he passed the wand test. And he has a _cat_!" the young girl added in an afterthought.

"_Merci_, Monique!" the lady of the house said warmly, rushing to greet her visitor. "Monsieur Aloysius Guérisseur! I was hoping to contact you, and yet- you are here!"

She gladly rushed to collect the cat from Aloysius' arms, before hurrying to close the door- as if the world outside was a threat. She let the cat down to wander; Lorette found a cozy spot on the floor.

Sabine was still a beauty of around Aloysius' age; in her mid fifties. She appeared much younger. She was clearly of African origin with her dark brown complexion, and her ebony hair was in an elaborate coiffure; many narrow braids pulled back, twisted and fastened with a gold clasp. She and her niece both wore comfortable, robe-like dresses suitable for a leisurely day confined at home.

"You look _magnifique_, Madame. Your husband is a lucky man," Aloysius said, bowing and taking the lady's hand to give it a kiss of greeting.

"I _must_ try to look good at all times! I need to keep my spirits up, take care of myself, _and_ the rest of my family." she said with a determined yet mournful expression. "Would you care for a cup of tea, Aloysius?"

"Merci," said Aloysius. As he walked, the swarm of green flies followed, circling over his head while Sabine asked her niece, Monique, to go into the kitchen and pour the guest some tea.

"Chrysope flies?" said Sabine, unconcerned that a cloud of insects had come into the house. "I have a vial of Impersonation Draught if you need it."

"_Merci._ I was about to brew some, but I might not need that now. Something came up, and now I need other kinds. Invisibility and Memory Restoration potions. I'm in dire need of the latter, for a friend. And the former...for my plan to help Marcel."

"How can you even _attempt_ to help him escape, Monsieur?" she said in distress. "The prison can only be entered freely if you're an officer or guard. It's impenetrable otherwise. My only thought would be if you used Impersonation with Sauvageon."

"It can't be Sauvageon now," said Aloysius. "He's lost favor with Bertrand, and I'm not exactly sure how to get close to any _La Maison de Crimes Noirs_ guards. So now, it is back to square one."

Her face fell. "I should have known it was impossible."

"I am so sorry, Madame. I'm still thinking...do you by chance have Memory Restoration draught?"

"Memory? I have a supply of that in storage. At least ten ounces."

His spirits rose. "Thank you! I'll pay you whatever price you'd like for a small vial."

"You needn't pay me, Aloysius," she replied. "I can lend you some. As much as you wish. Whatever we can do to save my boy!"

Aloysius surveyed the small sitting room, comfortably decorated with pillows, more vases of fresh carnations and lilacs, African mask art on the walls, and an amethyst butterfly sculpture on the fireplace mantel.

He also noticed a few Magical portraits on the walls. A beautiful, smiling young woman in a white dress and curled white wig. She appeared to be blowing the viewer a flirtatious kiss.

There was also a poster of a _Boule de Plume_ team, a grinning, teenage Marcel standing among them. It was the popular _Faucons de Paris_.

"You and your family have a comfortable home here," Aloysius said to Sabine, who invited him to sit on a small settee while she took a rocking chair.

"We may be leaving soon," she replied sadly. "My sister Celeste- Monique's mother- she and her husband have already moved to England. _London_," she added. "They speak the language better than I. Monique, of course, begged to be allowed to stay with me and start her new year at the Académie. At her age, she loves her school and her friends. She doesn't want to be transferred to the British académie."

"They can't make me go to that..._cochon avec des verrues _school!" Monique shouted from the kitchen, obviously eavesdropping. "I'll miss my friends! My English isn't good yet. And besides, they wear ugly robes and stupid witch hats there. I like _our_ uniform!"

"Monique," Sabine said sternly. "We have a guest."

The girl came back quietly carrying a tea tray and set it down on a table.

"So you like school, then? What is your Division?" Aloysius asked her.

She responded by pointing to her necklace charm- a tiny amethyst butterfly.

"Like my cousin Marcel was, I'm a Butterfly," she said quietly. "Have you heard anything, Monsieur? Are they going to kill him?"

When she saw the distressed look on her aunt's face, she regretted her question. "I'm sorry! I'm _sorry,_ Auntie!" she lamented, sitting on the chair arm next to her aunt. She hugged her in comfort.

"It's all right, _ma enfant_, I would have wanted to know the same," said Sabine, her eyes reddening. "Aloysius, I haven't even _tried_ looking in my Mirror. I'm afraid of what I will see. How they might be treating him."

"If you would like, I can look for you. You don't need to watch or hear," Aloysius said very gently. He took out his Mirror. Sabine pulled her wand from her dress pocket and pointed it to her ear, giving herself a Silencing Spell. She lowered her eyes to her teacup, her hands shaking as she held it.

If it were bad news, Aloysius would tell her that the jailers set a spell on the prison, so it could not be viewed via Mirror.

"I'm worried, Auntie Sabine," Monique said tearfully. She fled the sitting room and up the nearby stairs.

"Show me the prisoner Marcel Clement in _La Maison de Crimes Noirs_," Aloysius said. The mirror fogged, and a dim, barely lighted scene came into view. It became clearer the more Aloysius peered into it.

It would be late morning in the prison, but the windowless cell block hallways were dim. Only a few torches lit the place. He noticed a monstrous-looking _Centipede Gras _crawling along a corridor, as well as a huge, menacing black cat.

Inside two neighboring cells, Aloysius made out two people. Marcel was asleep, and appeared to be alive and decently well. He wore a shadow of beard stubble, and his typically short-cropped hair had grown out in frizzy curls.

"Sabine?" Aloysius raised his finger to catch the woman's attention. She caught his eye and stopped the silencing charm with her wand.

"_Yes_? What do you see?" she asked fretfully.

"He's asleep right now. Do you want to see?" He beckoned to her to come near and watch the Magic Mirror with him. She took tentative steps to his settee and sat next to him. When she spotted her son, she was overcome with emotion.

"_Mon Dieu!_ He still looks beautiful. Oh, thank heaven he's still alive...my poor boy! I wish I could speak to him!" she exclaimed, clutching a fold of her loose-fitting dress and twisting it. She watched the Mirror with him for several moments. "The old woman with him...who is she?"

"My cousin Agathe, of course. Imprisoned for everything she has done. She is an Age-Shifter, she is not that old in truth."

"Agathe Sauvageon, you mean? Why is my son next to _her_?" she cried. "How could he be locked up with that _criminal _who almost killed my daughter?"

Aloysius turned off the Mirror. Sabine gestured to the Magical portrait of her grown daughter, the woman dressed in white, wearing a wig and playfully blowing a kiss.

"Jacinta Colombe, my eldest," she said. "She has no magic and is married to a _Sans-Magie _man. A good man. Agathe Sauvageon turned her into a feather duster! She trapped her in that castle for years! Then she erased our memories so none of us would look for her! She bound Jacinta to her master, the Beast Prince. When he almost died, _she_ almost died! _Oui, _she redacted her spell, and brought them back. But it was _dangerous_!"

Sabine's temper was starting to flare. Monique flew back down the steps to stare at both of them wide-eyed.

"Monique, _enfant,_ go to your room."

"I'm not a baby," Monique argued.

Sabine gave a weary sigh. "I am in no mood to fight with you, child...let me tell you what I've seen. Marcel is still alive, _petit,_ but he's imprisoned next to Agathe Sauvageon!"

"_Her?" _The child gasped, as if Agathe were the devil.

"_Curse_ that woman!" exclaimed Sabine, looking at Aloysius. "The Sauvageon family is evil as sin! I can't believe _you _are their relation." Angry tears welled in the lady's dark eyes. "I wish with all my heart that Marcel had never been involved with that crook Alexis. With _Le Ministère._"

"You would have never foreseen this, Madame."

"Marcel was desperate to take any job in Magical society when he stopped playing professional _Boule de Plume._ Alexis offered him one. It _seemed_ good...until recently. That monster betrayed my son."

"I am terribly sorry. It's true, you were _both_ betrayed and hurt by my Sauvageon relatives. My mother's side of the family," Aloysius said. "They always had a reputation for using dangerous, experimental magic, even if it wasn't dark."

"That man Alexis was a _terrible_ influence. Marcel had trouble reigning in his magic as a child. He would use it without our permission. I had _hoped_ that school taught him to not use it impulsively."

Aloysius frowned. "To tell the truth, Madame- Marcel _did_ perform illegal exposure spells on his own free will. Sauvageon wasn't the one making him perform magic in that Prince's castle. He chose to do it, and in fact I _witnessed _him doing it. I wasn't present in that castle, but he used the Summons Charm with my name by accident. Later, Alexis caught him in the act, and sent him to prison."

Madame Sabine shook her head tearfully. "He was innocent!"

"I'm not saying he meant harm or evil. It was an unwise decision on his part. However, his punishment is much too harsh. Alexis _is_ a monster. I am sorry."

With his words, Madame Sabine put both hands to her temples in despair. Aloysius lay the Mirror down on the table and spoke gently.

"Madame, I must tell you- if there is anyone you would want your son to be with in that hellhole of a place, it's Agathe. She is not Dark or evil, despite all you hear. She uses her powers in only helpful ways, and she's paying her _own_ dues for breaking the laws."

"How could _she_ have been helpful or kind?"

"For one, she corrected her curse, and your daughter is now happy and well. Is the portrait of her recent?"

"Yes, last year," said Sabine, wiping her eye with a lace handkerchief. "I created those lifelike Enchanted portraits of her with my wand when I visited her and her husband in that wonderful castle, soon after the Prince's royal wedding. She was overjoyed to have her life back again! Her marriage to Francois is one of the most loving marriages I have ever beheld, and I learned to accept love and marriages between Enchanteds and _Sans-Magies_. And that led to _my_ second marriage, bless my darling man!" She smiled through tears.

"I wished I could have seen the castle," Monique said softly as she lingered nearby. "I couldn't leave school. Could we go next summer, Auntie?"

"Perhaps...we'll _see_," Sabine said, placating the girl.

"Where is your husband today?" Aloysius pressed, guiding Madame Sabine to a more pleasant thought.

"At work, as always. The dear man burns his candle at both ends. He repairs and creates all kinds of furniture and lamps. He is a fair business man, as well. He's everything my first husband Philippe looked down upon- but he's so much better _here,_" She put a delicate hand on her heart.

"I'm glad for that."

"I only wish I could have my son back! I despise seeing that Mirror...it confirms what I don't want to admit. For the last weeks, I've imagined he's only out driving coaches, as always. Yet...I need to see him in the Mirror again. May I?"

"Be my guest," Aloysius said, and they looked on at the scene at the prison. Marcel was still sleeping. Agathe was close by, and she was watching over him with care.

"How can she have any concern for my boy?"

"I would imagine she does now, Madame Sabine. Your son is a kind and decent man. Perhaps he has worked his kindness into even Agathe's heart."

Agathe happened to be sitting up in a straw cot, a blanket tossed aside. She held out one gnarled hand- not towards Marcel, but to someone else, out of view. Aloysius and Sabine could barely hear her whisper something. A spell.

"_Arrêter la Pétrification_," she was saying. Or rather, a counter-spell. A man's voice began to moan weakly, as if he were ill and in pain, but too exhausted to cry out.

"Monsieur LeLoup...are you awake?" Agathe asked the man, whom Aloysius did not see in the Mirror. "How are you feeling?"

"I...I feel...horrible...I'm _alive_?" they heard a deep-voiced man lament. "_Damn_...the guards got me bad this time."

"You were on the edge of death, Robert. I saved your life," said Agathe.

They watched Marcel stir from his sleep. Sabine was intrigued as she watched her son, sitting and staring across a glass wall, at some other man they did not know.

"_Robert?"_ Marcel exclaimed. "What...was it all a dream? You were dead. You _must_ have been dead...how?" The man was truly perplexed. "Agathe? Did it work? Your spell?"

Sabine smiled tearfully at hearing her son's voice. "He sounds the same! Always full of questions," she said.

Agathe was answering him. "_Oui,_ Marcel. My spell was able to override yours, you'll be glad to know. You can rest assured, you did _not_ freeze Monsieur LeLoup to death."

"Thank you," Marcel whispered. "Thank you, Mademoiselle Agathe, for all you've done for both of us. And forgive me for last night. Robert, please forgive me."

"The hell are you talking about, _mon garçon_?" LeLoup scoffed, in a voice that though weak and strained, still held his humor. "_You_ never hurt me. How could my angel across the hall ever hurt _me_? The great, mighty, monstrous _wolf_?"

"I froze you into a statue of ice," Marcel admitted. "I was certain I killed you."

"It's _true_, Monsieur LeLoup," said the frail, elderly Enchantress. "He defended himself by freezing you with a fatal spell. But _my_ power kept you alive."

…

"It appears they are getting along," said Aloysius.

"He almost killed someone? Who?" Sabine said, shocked.

"I don't know, but from what the other prisoner said...he's a werewolf. Marcel must have had an understandable reason. He seems well...for now. Madame, I _need_ those potions," Aloysius reiterated in a sober tone. "I just don't have time to collect ingredients and brew my own."

Sabine stood with a determined look on her face. "I'll get them for you right away!" she exclaimed.

...


	8. An Irate Relative

Chapter 8- An Irate Relative

...

Alexis Sauvageon blinked his eyes a few times, trying to recall exactly where he was. Some dull, tiny guest room, it seemed.

Slowly, as he gained more consciousness, he recalled battling a man. Aloysius, a strange relative of his. He knew of his cousin, but Aloysius certainly never ran in Alexis' social circles. The man was known to be an oddball, a recluse who associated with _Sans-Magies_ more than he did with fellow wizards. He'd Age-Shifted so frequently that one could barely recall which incarnation of his was the real one. Much like his other odd Age-Shifting cousin, Agathe.

Apparently, Aloysius had cursed him with _Petrifier _and vanished from thin air. Alexis stood up and searched his pockets for his Mirror.

It was gone. His wand? Gone.

He took off his coat and shook it, turning the pockets inside out, his confusion turning to rage. _That damned thief! _Even his pouch of Enchanted dust, that he needed for access into and out of the prison, was missing.

Alexis examined the room he'd been left in. The place was filled with things that appeared to belong to a woman- a few maid's dresses and other garments, tiny bottles of perfume, jars of cosmetics. They belonged to the _Sans-Magie_ girl who'd needed her memory obliterated. She must have worked as a maid of some kind.

He ransacked the room, looking everywhere for his stolen Magical effects. Within minutes, items were strewn all over the floor including womens' undergarments.

The lonely, lustful part of him was tempted to touch and feel them, but he refrained. The feminine clothes belonged to a member of that inferior group of humans, he didn't dare touch them. Feeling the fabric might just cause Alexis' powers to weaken. Minister Bertrand even held the theory if an Enchanter engaged in intimate relations with a _Sans-Magie,_ it would drain him or her of power. He wasn't sure if it was true. It was likely bollocks, but he took no chances.

Alexis decided to try to call for a Summoning charm on his missing wand. '_Accés!_' he mumbled quietly.

Two minutes passed. He repeated the word again and again, for five more minutes. No wand appeared. It had either been flung much too far away by Aloysius and could take over an hour to fly back to its master- or Aloysius had stolen it. He'd have to seek the man out again.

The idea alighted upon him that if an enemy had stolen his wand and important tools, Alexis would have a ready-made excuse for why he failed to report to Minister Bertrand and Officer Roux for wand analysis.

As an afterthought, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the image of the elegant rug before Minister Bertrand's office desk. The charm worked beautifully.

Alexis disappeared from that hotel room with a quiet _swoosh_ sound that may have been heard by a _Sans-Magie_ in the hallway. The same moment, he appeared in front of the elaborately carved walnut desk of Minister Bartholomé Bertrand himself.

"_Sauvageon_! You have a great deal of explaining to do!" the Minister bellowed, his pale blue bugged eyes wide as saucers and his mouth in a pursed line.

The man's bald head was perfectly spherical, pale white, and resembled a cue ball in a game of billiards. With the Minister's less-than-attractive appearance, Alexis pondered why it was that so many women cooed and batted their eyes over Bertrand, including the magical envoy from faraway America, Elizabeth. She was sidled close to him at his desk, a half-empty glass of wine in her hand.

When Alexis appeared, she gave him a bothered look and vanished from sight.

Alexis dropped to his knees. "My Lord Minister, please listen to my explanation. I regret to say that I was attacked. My wand, Mirror, and pouch of Access Dust were stolen by my cousin. He ambushed me and cursed me with _Petrifier_."

Bertrand scowled. "You lost a battle, then? Gave someone else the upper hand? Perhaps he needs to come here and be hired on as your replacement."

"My Lord, I tell you, he's a vile criminal. Aloysius Guérriseur is his name. He's the cousin of not only myself, but Agathe. He's practically her twin! He is an Age-Shifter, and just like her, he is an intimate associate with _Sans-Magies_."

Alexis counted off Aloysius' crimes on his fingers. "He freely performs his magic in front of them. He cast a smoke charm to blind me before he attacked me. In the presence of a _Sans-Magie_, I must add! I couldn't fight him back, because of _her_ being there. I plan to keep up my pursuit of him. Do you have any public records on the man?"

Bertrand's stern frown softened and he gave a pensive look. Waving his wand, he repeated the suspect's name. A portrait appeared before him in midair much like a hologram- a thin, pleasant looking man with receded salt-and-pepper hair. He held a slight smile; his squinty brown eyes gave him the air of mirthful humor. Phrases appeared beneath the man's headshot-

_Aloysius Armand Guérisseur. Born April 27, 1724. Graduate of the Great Acad__é__mie of France, Class of 1742. Member of the House of the Butterfly. Occupation- Unknown. _

Bertrand inquired this record he'd obtained by speaking directly to it. "Are there current or past criminal records on Guérisseur? Any known wand analysis?"

The word _Negative_ appeared in white script before the suspect's profile vanished like a ghost.

"I'll give you one more chance, Sauvageon," he said in resignation. "You may pursue this man, if anything to get your stolen items back."

"My Lord, is it possible that I could be issued a replacement wand?"

"No. When you catch him, I would hope you can pry your wand from his hands. I expect competence, Officer. Do not let this happen again. In fact, you are not to leave me until Officer Roux comes here to join you. He will be your constant partner, when you can show me your skills have improved, then you may work alone again. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Sauvageon said, ingratiated. "You are so kind, great Lord Minister." He bowed low to the rug, touching his nose to the fabric. "_Merci beaucoup_."

After a moment, Bertrand summoned Nicolas Roux to the office. The middle-aged man strode into the room, smirking with amusement when he saw his colleague on the floor. Realizing he must do the same, he bowed down to his Minister.

"Officers," Bertrand commanded. "This is the man I need to you to capture as soon as possible. He's a thief and a rebel." He waved his wand and showed Roux the profile of Aloysius.

…

"Maman, I'm telling you I wasn't _there _to see Emilie's wedding! I was in a coma, unconscious. I don't remember _anything _about being in attendance when she and Gaston got married!" Adelaide insisted to her mother.

"_Ma petit,_ you are ill. Of course you went to the wedding! And you weren't in any coma two weeks ago when Papa and I came to the hotel to see you," Madame Fortier argued back. "You must lie down and rest and come to your senses!"

"Why don't I _remember _anything? Why did I wake up in the hotel with a half-dead man on the floor and my friend Aloysius saying I was in bed for weeks?" Adelaide shouted angrily.

"I do not know, and please stop raising your voice, Addie. It was none of my doing. Perhaps you just had too much wine lately."

"I barely ever drink wine, Maman!" Adelaide said, gesturing to the bottle of wine on the sideboard that she had snuck from the hotel. "Where is Emilie and Gaston's new home?"

"About twenty minutes to walk, just a few minutes' carriage ride. 102 Rue Thirteen. She would love to see you, but I would rather you wait until you are sound in mind," said Madame Fortier, putting a hand on Adelaide's forehead. "Are you staying for lunch?"

"Yes," Adelaide said, comforted by the thought of foods from home. "I can cook with you."

About an hour later, while Adelaide and her father and mother were finishing the last of the baguette slices over tea, a knock sounded at her door. Adelaide went down the rickety little staircase to the bottom floor to answer it.

"Bonjour, Toulouse!" Adelaide greeted the young man who worked as a bellboy. "I didn't tell you where I lived...not that I mind you visiting me or anything."

"I got help. I took a cab carriage, the driver knows your parents, he said," Toulouse explained.

"I'm surprised to see someone here from a job I didn't even know I was supposed to _have_."

"Well, Adelaide," the boy began awkwardly, a hand on the Magic Mirror in his pocket, "That is what I'm here to talk about. You see, I shared your job position while you were sick. So I was wondering if you want to go with me to meet up with Monsieur Aloysius. He has the funds to pay both you and I. I was paid for your cleaning. But- he wants to pay you for all the time you were in bed asleep."

"Really?" Adelaide said, surprised. "That is so kind of him! I think he must be more than just a desk concierge. I've seen his suite where he stayed. It was pretty fancy."

"Are you willing to come right now?" Toulouse insisted. "It's...important. You might lose an opportunity."

Adelaide balked, glancing up to where her parents were relaxing. "I was spending time with my folks. Would tomorrow be alright?"

"Uh...n-no," Toulouse stammered with nerves. "Monsieur Aloysius says it has to be right now. It's very, very important. Please come with me. I have a cab carriage!"

He pointed to the street, where a man sat holding the reins of a lightweight cab carriage pulled by a single grey roan horse.

Adelaide's mouth fell open when she took a second look at the driver. He was a tall, sturdily-built man with a dark ponytail.

"_Monsieur Luc!" _she squealed in joy. "I- I mean- his real name is...oh, what _is_ his real name?" she spluttered.

"_Bonjour, Addie!_" the man boomed out to her in a loud voice. It was none other than the redeemed, reformed, now-humble gentleman and transplanted resident of Paris- Gaston Legume.

"I'm _Gaston!_" he corrected her, thumb gesturing to his chest. He waved to her proudly with one large hand while the other held the reins, his grin as huge and infectious as she'd remembered.

Adelaide's own brother in law. And she had completely forgotten that she had been the attendant to his wedding to her younger sister Emilie. She rushed to the carriage, the young fellow trailing behind. Gaston caught her in a bear hug.

"How is my favorite and only sister in law?" he boomed.

"I'm all right...considering the circumstances," she said, not sure how to explain. "Is Emilie at home?"

"_Damn!" _Gaston swore. "If only I knew that _you _were the passenger I was picking up! I could have had my wife join us. Yes, Addie- Emilie is at our new home, doing some sewing. I had to leave her side, unfortunately, to work my shift. Her new lady friends wanted me to stay. They can't get _enough_ of me, I imagine. My wife is truly the luckiest girl in Paris."

"Why is _that_?" Toulouse asked in curiosity as the two took seats behind Gaston.

A lull in the conversation ensued before Gaston spoke. "I...well, because Emilie _says_ she's the luckiest girl in Paris. She's...well, she's _happy._"

"Of _course_ she's happy. She's married to you! A valiant, brave and dashing man!" Adelaide encouraged him.

Immediately, Gaston turned around and gave her a wistful smile. "I've missed you so much, Addie."

"I miss you and Emilie, too! We have to go see her later. I'm so glad I've recovered," said Adelaide, sitting next to a rather uncomfortable Toulouse.

He didn't expect the driver he'd hired to be an actual relative of Adelaide's. Now, she was liable to talk more nonsense to him under her Obliteration Curse.

"_Recovered_? From what? Lovelorn grief?" Gaston pondered aloud while he glanced again at the piece of paper with an address written on it.

"No, I was sick and unconscious in a coma, Luc- I mean _Gaston_! Did you and Emilie visit me while I was in that bed?"

"We saw you three weeks ago, Adelaide dear, and you were as fit as a sturdy little fiddle. I never heard you were ill. Emilie would have told me!"

"_What_? My parents just told me the same thing, that I wasn't ill and I'm not right in the head! But it has to be the truth! I don't remember going to your wedding...I don't remember anything since I was in Prince Adam's castle, when he locked you in his dungeon!"

"A prince locked you in a dungeon?" Toulouse said awkwardly.

Gaston's good mood soured. "An unfortunate circumstance, _mon garçon. _One I'd rather forget. Yes, I was locked in a Prince's dungeon in faraway Alsace."

"Those royals can be fairly nasty to commoners. Tyrants, many of them are," said Toulouse.

"Gaston, I'm sorry I missed the wedding," said Adelaide.

He turned around and gave her a perplexed look, his eyes narrowed. "Of course you didn't miss it, dear. You were our witness and you signed the marriage contract with us! You wore a blue dress that day. How could you _not_ remember the happiest moment of your sister's life?"

"But I _don't_ remember! It's all a blank!" Adelaide said, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. "What the living hell is _wrong_ with me?"

Toulouse struggled to keep a neutral face, his hand gripping the wand in his pocket. One more city block, and he would be able to deliver her to Aloysius to be cured. If she could only refrain from hysterics for just thirty seconds.

An audible groan of frustration came from Gaston in the driver's seat as he turned the corner to Rue Madeleine. "Well, I married into this family," he mumbled.

A few more paces of the horse, and they reached the address that Toulouse had given Gaston. "Here we are. 1344 Madeleine. Adelaide, dear, is there someone you and the boy are here to visit?" Gaston asked.

"It's work related, not social," said Toulouse nervously.

"Good!" said Gaston with a smirk. "You seem a bit _young_ to be dating my sister. She's a fully grown woman, you see. She needs a man."

Toulouse's face turned beet red; he refused to look Adelaide in the eye.

"_Gaston!_" scolded Adelaide. "Toulouse, I'm so sorry. My brother in law does nothing but tease me about my love life, or my lack of one, actually."

When the two hopped off the carriage seat, Gaston dismounted and went to hug her again. He leaned down to her ear to whisper in secret, his tone kind and surprisingly gentle.

"I've been wondering how you've been getting along, Addie. Are you still lovelorn over...you know, the warlock?"

"_Warlock_?" Adelaide said, perplexed. "There's no such thing. What have you been drinking?" She smelled a whiff of ale on his breath.

"Yes, there are!" Gaston hissed in a tense whisper, his grip around her shoulders tightening. "It is the reason I'm alive and a reformed man today! Enchanters, Warlocks, whatever you call those people. Witchcraft and sorcery! You fell for one of them, remember? The black fellow. He was a _warlock,_ Adelaide. He was displaying powers right in front of Prince-"

Toulouse took Adelaide by her elbow and tried to pull her from her irate relative. "Adelaide, we _have_ to go. Alo- your manager is here at this house. You _must _go in straight away-"

"Gaston, are you talking about Marcel?" Adelaide said in irritation. "I suspect you have prejudices about people who aren't just like yourself. Accusing my friend of witchcraft just because he has a different skin color isn't very nice!"

"That's not true!" argued Gaston. "But the witchcraft _is_ true!"

"Adelaide, please say _adieu_ to your brother and let him go on with his job," Toulouse said in a pleading voice, pulling her elbow while Gaston let go of her shoulder.

"Where are you taking my sister, _gar__ç__on_?" Gaston pressed him.

"To get the payment she's owed. Our manager has money he can give her."

"This is someone's _home_!" Gaston said, his eyes narrowed. "Doesn't payroll at that hotel operate in the hotel? Why is it that I detect something sneaky about your attitude, young man? If you don't mind, _I_ will escort my sister to the door and help her get her payment. If I'm not a _bother_ to you, that is."

He moved closer to Toulouse, getting into his personal bubble of space with his large torso.

"No, I don't mind," Toulouse sighed and forced a smile. "No bother. You are her family, after all."

Gaston gently cradled Adelaide's arm and walked her ahead of him protectively. When they reached the door, Toulouse knocked.

The door next to a pot of violet and white blossoms opened and the pretty young girl, Monique, stuck her head out.

"Monsieurs? Madame?" she greeted. "Before I let you in, please tell me three Core Values of either the House of the Butterfly, or the House of the Five Leaves."

Toulouse did not miss a beat. "I am from Five Leaves," he said proudly. "Bravery, Loyalty, and Care of Flora and Fauna. Respecting the balance of nature."

"Wands?" she asked, holding out a petite hand in expectation.

"Um…" Toulouse faltered. He glanced back at Adelaide and Gaston. "These two...um, _she_ has to be let in. But _he's_ a relative and he insists on coming. I...I don't know. Um, is your aunt here?"

"Are they _Sans-Magie_?" Monique asked.

"Oui."

"Hello, young Mademoiselle," said Gaston to the girl. "Are you the daughter of the house?"

"_Magie_?" Adelaide wondered out loud. "We don't have magic. What do you mean? Toulouse, who is this little girl?" She studied Monique's pretty dark features. "You look familiar somehow. _Bonjour._ My name is Adelaide."

She smiled kindly, as she was always fond of children. Monique was an older child, on the cusp of young maidenhood. Adelaide was struck by the girl's intelligent and merry brown eyes, rimmed with ebony lashes. She'd seen eyes like that before. She'd known and liked people with that same brown skin tone and features as well. A family resemblance.

It finally dawned upon her. The girl did resemble Marcel and perhaps even his sister Plumette, the castle maid she'd met right before she fell into a coma! The thought alighted upon her, filling her with hope of reuniting with her gentleman friend. Was this _his_ home?

"Sweetie, do you have a big brother who lives here by any chance?" she blurted. "One who drives carriages?" She glanced up at Gaston. "_Gaston!_" she exclaimed. "You drive a carriage for a salary now! You must have seen Marcel around the city!"

The young girl frowned. "That's my cousin's name."

"Adelaide," Gaston said, trying to reason. "I thought he'd been sent to prison. Unless he was lucky enough to be freed since then-"

"Monsieur, you know my cousin in prison? What have you heard?" Monique chimed in.

"You're related to that _warlock_, little girl? It figures! How many of you are there?" Gaston bellowed. "There's sorcery here, Adelaide! I _told_ you it was better you steer clear of it! It can be life-changing, but there is _danger_ in it! Too much danger for a woman such as yourself. Thank God I found myself here, you needed me to protect you."

"Gaston, will you _stop_?" Adelaide shouted back. "No, I _don't _need your protection right now! Quit being an arrogant twit. _Mon Dieu, _you're impossible!"

_Merlin aide moi,_ Toulouse pleaded to the great Wizard of history. He had lost control of the two _Sans-Magies_, one of whom Aloysius had assigned to take here to cure her curse. He stood silent, not knowing what to do, hoping Aloysius was present in Madame Sabine's home. He did not want to reveal his wand in front of this Gaston fellow. The _Sans-Magie_ man had a brash and somewhat volatile temperament. His hazel-green eyes were fierce and fiery, though mixed with alarm.

He was certainly one of them who feared magic, had seen its power. He was Exposed. The man they spoke of named Marcel must have been the one to Expose to him. It was likely the reason he was in prison.

The last thing eighteen-year-old Toulouse wanted was to join that other man in _La_ _Maison_ for the same thing. He was beyond relieved when Aloysius finally showed up at the door behind the girl.

"No need for wands! I can vouch for you. _Bonjour,_ Toulouse. and Adelaide, dear! And...oh. Well, hello, Gaston," said Aloysius, a bit of nervous surprise flashing in his eyes. "Please come in."

The three were welcomed inside the home, and were greeted by Madame Sabine striding gracefully from her kitchen bearing a tray of teacups. Today she was wearing a dress adorned with white feathers, much like her daughter in the portrait.

"_Bonjour_, friends of Aloysius! Would you fine people care for a cup of tea?"

Gaston waved his hand casually. "I don't care for tea. I'm just here with my sister. Sister in _law_, that is. But thank you, Madame."

"No worries. We have warm milk as well. Monique, set out the biscuits, _si vous plait?_"

"Yes, Auntie!" said the girl.

"Make yourselves comfortable, you three," said Sabine. "Hello, Toulouse, _mon enfant. _How is your mother?"

"She's doing well," said Toulouse, now a little less frazzled.

"I'll be right back," Sabine said with a raised pointer finger, and she swept back into her kitchen with Aloysius following her.

…

As soon as they were in privacy, Sabine took a vial of golden liquid from her cupboard. "It's the lady, correct?"

"Yes, Madame. My friend Adelaide who I told you about. Sweet young woman. In fact, she's acquainted with your boy. She's a friend of of both Marcel and myself, actually."

"That is good to know," Sabine said, holding the potion vial tightly in her hands. "I imagine he met her back when he drove carriages. Now, he usually didn't like the _Sans-Magies_ he drove, I'm surprised. Most of them treated him like dirt on the bottom of their shoes."

"Adelaide is quite fond of your son," Aloysius said with a grin.

Sabine smiled with tearing eyes. "And why wouldn't she? Marcel _was_ the handsomest of all the cab-driving men in Paris," she said with pride. "He never believed me, though. Modest to a fault. Speaking of handsome men, who is that _Sans-Magie_? Is he authorized?" she whispered.

"Well, no," said Aloysius. "I let him in anyway, I know the man. His name is Gaston, he's Adelaide's brother in law. I know him fairly well. He's harmless despite his imposing presence. He was...well, I don't know if it will make you _pity_ him, but he was...yet another victim of Agathe."

"He was?" Sabine exclaimed in a whisper. "Curse Agathe! So he's Exposed. And the young woman as well?"

"Yes, but she needs the Memory Potion to be reminded. Her memory, as I told you before, was set back. She was actually willing to join the ERA, just because of her friendship with your son. She wants him out of that prison as much as you, Madame."

"How kind of her," Sabine poured the potion into a teacup on the sideboard. She added a few cubes of sugar, dissolving them in it. "A spoonful of _sucre_ helps the potion go down!" she whispered.

"In the most delightful way!" said Aloysius as he watched her take a teapot from a cast iron stove. He noticed her talking out a second vial of potion, putting it into a glass of milk along with a sugar cube.

In the sitting room, the three quests sat quietly. Gaston sat with his arms crossed surveying the room with a hawkish eye. He caught sight of the poster of the _Boule de Plume_ sports team.

"Addie! Isn't that your boyfriend in the portrait? On the front right?" he pointed out.

"_Mon Dieu_...it is...wait, he's not my boyfriend!" Her cheeks flushed. "We were only just friends. Just getting acquainted. So this is his family! And there's Madame Plumette in the other picture!"

"Look at that group portrait closer, Addie!" Gaston said in a stage whisper. "Marcel and the others are all holding broomsticks! Witches' broomsticks as weapons! He was a member of some warlock army. _Mon_ _Dieu_!"

"Oh! I think you could be right!" Adelaide exclaimed.

Sabine bustled in that moment, holding a single teacup and glass of milk. She poured the tea into the potion-filled teacup and handed it to Adelaide immediately. She gave the milk to Gaston.

"Thank you, Madame," said Gaston, remembering his manners.

"Merci, Madame," Adelaide said, sipping the tea. It was not very hot; rather lukewarm and very sweet. She found herself thirsty and drained the cup within moments.

Her heart skipped a beat as she focused again on the poster of the group of young men holding brooms. She stood and looked at it closely. As realization swept over her, her heart was pierced with fresh, bitter sorrow.

Her dear Marcel, her magical friend and hopeless crush, dragged to prison by another wizard for doing magic in front of her. He'd brought Lorette the kitten back to life after she drowned in that river.

As she glaced around the room, she saw movement near the stairs. A golden beige cat came out of hiding.

"Lorette!" She set the teacup down and rushed to cradle her little cat. Tears welled in her eyes as she turned her gaze to Madame Sabine. "Are you his Maman?"

"Yes, I am. And we have a rescue mission to begin. Your memory curse has been broken, Mademoiselle Adelaide," she declared. She glanced over at Gaston. He was slumped on the couch, sleeping with his mouth open. His glass of milk was empty.

"A little sound nap never hurt anyone," Sabine told Aloysius.

Just then, the front window of the sitting room shattered into pieces, spilling glass upon the floor. The women screamed in shock.

Sauvageon, accompanied by his fellow officer, Roux, materialized before them.

...


	9. Wizard Battle, Part Deux

Chapter 9- Wizard Battle, Part Deux

…

Adelaide gave a frightened gasp as the glass window shattered and the two men appeared from nowhere. It was _that_ man again. She remembered him now; his blond ponytail, his cruel sneer, the cut inflicted on her arm.

Her heart pounded in her chest as they advanced. She saw Sabine, Toulouse, and Aloysius reaching for their wands- long wooden sticks they'd drawn from their clothing pockets. She heard Monique screaming.

Officer Roux shouted a strange spellword that caused Aloysius' wand to fly out of his hand and soar across the room, clattering to the floor.

"Aloysius Guérriseur, your tricks are done," said Roux. "We are taking you to _La Maison_ immediately. Surrender or suffer curses!" he commanded, with Sauvageon nodding at his side.

Sabine held onto Monique protectively. "Please don't start a fight, gentlemen. There's a child in the room. Allow me to take her out to safety," she implored.

"Madame, you may take the child and go," said Roux. He waved his wand towards where Aloysius' wand lay on the floor, and it soared like a bird into his other hand; he pocketed it.

"Should we check the identities of this woman and the girl before they go?" Sauvageon interjected.

"We have no time for that. We came for Guérriseur, that is all!" Roux corrected him.

Adelaide felt relief when Sabine and Monique disappeared from the room with a soft _whoosh _sound. She noticed Sauvageon averting his eyes from Aloysius to glance down at her brother in law. "Who is this?" he mumbled.

Gaston was still sound asleep, dead to the world, on Madame Sabine's settee. Adelaide didn't plan to say what she said. Impulse made her spit out the words before she even realized they'd left her mouth.

"Don't wake him, messieurs! Don't you realize who he _is_?" she cried out.

"Officer, that woman is a _Sans-Magie_, she's nothing. She's speaking nonsense," said Sauvageon, wandless but holding his right hand outward, prepared to defend himself if needed.

Roux sneered at the young woman. "Who is he, then? Clearly he's been given sleeping potion."

Adelaide glanced at Aloysius and Toulouse; their gazes were steadily trained on their enemies. Toulouse held out his wand, and Aloysius, just like Sauvageon, held his hand out in defense.

"He's a _very_ powerful wizard! He'll fight to the death for us!" she insisted.

Sauvageon narrowed his eyes. "We know every pure-heritage Enchanter in all France, you silly girl. I've never seen that man before. And furthermore, _you_ need to go back among your own kind of people! _Why_ do I keep seeing you?"

"He's an English wizard!" Adelaide replied, again on a whim.

"What is his _name_, then?" Roux inquired. Both officers glared at Adelaide, shifting back and forth between her and Gaston's sleeping form.

Her mind searched quickly for names that sounded English. "John Smith."

"John Smith?" Roux repeated.

"_Oui,_ Monsieur," Adelaide affirmed with a convincing nod.

"There is a Welsh wizard named John Smith. Former professional _Boule de Plume_ player. Battle master. Never met him, but I've heard the name," said Roux, his wand lowering. "That man _does_ look like a Welshman-"

"_Des abeilles!"_ Toulouse shouted, his wand fixed on the two men while they were distracted. A swarm of bees shot from the tip of his wand. Sauvageon and Roux were caught off guard by the buzzing insects crawling over their clothing, their hands, their faces.

Adelaide was shocked at the cruelty of the spell. "Toulouse, you're going to hurt them!"

"_Petrifier!_" shouted Toulouse, aiming his wand at Roux. Like Aloysius, he chose the most humane attack curse. The man dropped to the floor, unconscious. Toulouse released the spell of the bees, and the buzzing swarm disappeared.

Sauvageon had put a wandless shield spell around himself. He was uninjured by the bees, but his partner was down. Enraged, he shouted a curse spellword that Adelaide did not understand, waving his arm madly in Aloysius' and Toulouse's direction. The curse appeared to hit Toulouse. Adelaide saw the young man's shirt sleeve tear open and blood to drip from his upper arm. '_Owww!' _he shouted.

"_John!_ Monsieur Smith! Please wake up!" Adelaide shouted to the sleeping Gaston, still trying to cause a distraction. She was increasingly terrified. Gaston was no wizard. He had brute strength and quick fists, that she knew from experience having seen him fight men before. But it was clear he could be no match for sorcery if he were to wake up.

Aloysius and Toulouse dropped to their knees on the floor, placing their hands above their heads. Toulouse lay his wand on the floor before him.

"You're giving up? It's two of you against one now!" Adelaide exclaimed in terror. "_Three _against one if John Smith wakes-"

"Alexis...cousin...I admit defeat," Aloysius said quietly to Sauvageon. "I surrender."

Sauvageon gave a small smile in triumph. He took several steps forward and bent down, almost kindly, to help Toulouse up with his bleeding arm. He motioned to Aloysius to stand.

Adelaide's heart sank. Another friend was about to be whisked away to magical prison, never to be seen again.

"Aloysius Guérisseur, and- please state your name!" Sauvageon commanded to the panting boy.

"Toulouse Alain Granger," Toulouse coughed out, clutching his bleeding arm with his palm. Sauvageon put his hand on the slim young man's upper arm, and he was immediately healed, all blood stains on his sleeve disappearing to Adelaide's shock.

_"Merci,_" Toulouse mumbled.

"Your surname is not recognizable to me as that of a pure-heritage Enchanter," Sauvageon said to him in contempt. "_Sang-Sale_, no doubt!"

Adelaide felt the angry urge to tell Sauvageon, '_I suppose as a Sans-Magie I wasn't human enough for you to do the same!' _but she remained quiet and still, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

She did not want Gaston to wake now. Knowing her brother in law, the fact he'd once been a hero of the Seven Years' War, he'd be rather peeved to know there was a battle right in front of him, and he didn't have the skills to participate.

"Guérisseur and Granger- you are both in my custody and will be immediately taken to _La Maison pour Crimes Noirs,_ for multiple offenses!" Sauvageon declared. After taking possession of Toulouse's wand, he took hold of both men's shoulders. "The Great Atrium of _Le Minist__ère_," he added, concentrating on his destination.

"_Aloysius!_" Adelaide cried as the three vanished.

"No...please, _no_!" Adelaide fought back tears. She was standing in the home of what she now knew to be her dear friend Marcel Clement's mother, but the woman and her niece had left. Her other wizard friends were now gone to the same fate Marcel had gone before.

Roux lay unconscious on the floor, face down. His magic wand, about ten inches long with a swordlike carved handle, lay a short distance from his hand where it had fallen. Adelaide had the curious urge to pick it up or touch it. She didn't. Instead, she went to sit near her sleeping brother in law, tugging on his arm. She_ had_ to get him to leave this house. She hoped he didn't notice the Petrified man lying there once he gained consciousness.

"Gaston? Gaston! You're late for work. Your cab carriage is still outside- wake up, you big dolt! _Ugh_!" She tried tweaking his nose, but his sleep was sound.

After a few stress-filled moments, she heard a woman's voice behind her. "Mademoiselle?"

She turned to see that Madame Sabine and Monique had returned to their home without making a sound.

"_Madame_! How did you…"

"Magically, of course, _petit._ It's the easiest way to travel," the woman said kindly.

"It gives me a _stomachache!_" Monique complained, her pretty face in a scowl of discomfort. She went to plop down in a chair. Her blue dress and petticoat were wrinkled and untidy from whatever Magical travel she'd just endured. The girl gaped in horror at the stiff man on the floor.

"Auntie, _please_ get this Petrified man out of here! I'm scared!"

"I will right away, Monique. Please be brave, child. And I will need to awaken the gentleman on the sofa and let him be on his way," Sabine assured, speaking as if having a 'Petrified' man and a soundly sleeping stranger in her home were just as commonplace as the mail carrier's visit. "Have a cookie on the table, _ma_ _petite._"

Monique took a jam-filled cookie from the plate on the table and bit into it nervously, her brown eyes like saucers at the fallen Roux.

"It's hard for me to get used to people...coming and going so quickly," Adelaide said, trying to make awkward conversation. "But I'm glad to meet you," she continued, putting on a friendly smile. "My name is Adelaide Fortier. I'm a friend of Aloysius. And your son Marcel. I'm so sorry, but...Aloysius and Toulouse have just been taken to the prison."

"No need to panic, Mademoiselle Adelaide. I _will_ take care of things," said Sabine.

Adelaide was perplexed as to how the lady could 'take care' in such dire circumstances. She watched Sabine walk over to Gaston on the couch, and pull her own magic wand from her dress pocket. It was clear that female Enchantresses all had special pockets sewn into their gowns, just for wand storage. It was intriguing to say the least.

"He's my brother in law Gaston. My sister Emilie's husband. He needs to go back to work soon, or he'll be fired," she explained.

"I see," Sabine said, looking down at the sleeping man. Adelaide looked on, comforted with the knowledge that this was dear Marcel's Maman, as well as the Maman of her friend Plumette from the Prince's castle. She could definitely believe it, noting the older woman's dark-skinned, slender, graceful beauty. It was clear to see where both Plumette and Marcel had received their good looks. She knew she herself couldn't compare. Even in her flattering burgundy dress and curled hair, she felt like a pale, plain, fat dumpling in comparison.

"_Éveiller,_ Monsieur," Sabine said in a warm and kind voice. Gaston's eyes opened and blinked. He glanced around the room.

"What the hell? Adelaide?"

"Gaston, you were sleeping for a while. Your carriage and horses are waiting. Hurry, though," Adelaide said to him, mirroring the calm manner of the Enchanted woman, though her own voice was nowhere near as confident.

Gaston rose to his full height. And with no doubt on Adelaide's part, he was very quick to spot the man named Roux on the floor. "Who _killed_ this man?" he growled.

"He's not dead, Gaston-"

"Adelaide, since when have _you_ become the medical expert, dear sister? I _know_ a dead man when I see one. I served in a _war_ once!"

He kicked one booted toe at Roux's form; the man was as stiff as a log. "I'm reporting this to the city law enforcement, straight away!"

"_Gaston_!" Adelaide shouted in protest. Her brother in law strode to the front door, slamming it behind him as he left. Outside the broken window, she saw him run to his parked cab carriage. He attempted to control the two hungry, protesting horses, who bucked and neighed until they finally pulled the carriage once Gaston slapped the leather reins several times in frustration. She could hear him cursing in fury as the carriage rolled away.

"_Damned cursed warlocks and witches! This is all I need now!"_

"What do we do, Madame?" Adelaide asked, turning from the glass-shattered window. "I'm so sorry! Toulouse was the one who put the spell on that man-"

"It's all under control, child," said Sabine.

"Auntie knows what she's doing...I hope," Monique added in a tense voice. "I don't want to look at him like that! Oh, Auntie Sabine, he looks really, _really _dead. Like the _Sans-Magie_ man said! He's going to get you in trouble now!"

"No worries, _ma petite,_" Sabine said. She mumbled a spell as she waved her wand around her in an arc. Adelaide noticed the walls of the room sparkle for a split second.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Concealment charm."

"Oh."

Sabine walked to the prone form of Roux and bent down. She pocketed his wand, as well as the wand he'd taken from Aloysius. She went through his coat pockets until she found a pouch filled with what looked like powder.

"What's that, Auntie?" Monique asked. "Is it medicine to make him better?"

"Monique, please. No questions right now. I'm trying to think!"

She stared at Roux for several moments. Adelaide caught the young girl's eye, they exchanged looks of worry. Sabine gave her wand a flick and conjured a little pair of silver scissors. She removed Roux's fashionable, curled white wig. Then, she snipped a few locks of sparse brown hair from his balding head, holding the hairs in her palm.

"Auntie, are you-"

"Shh! I'm _thinking_!" She looked at Adelaide. "Mademoiselle- did Toulouse have his magic wand when Sauvageon took him?"

"_Non,_ Madame. Sauvageon took his wand away. They gave themselves up! They could have fought more, I don't understand-"

"Was Aloysius still wearing that silver wig?"

"Yes. It was odd, I've never seen him wear wigs before. He looks better and younger without one," she told her.

Adelaide, like any common-born maiden, associated men's' wigs with wealth and high society just like the Marquis she once served. When she saw Aloysius finally wearing one, she had the thought he'd been hiding his true status and origin. Perhaps he _was_ a criminal according to the Magical world.

"_Merci,_ dear. That's good to know," Sabine replied, her eyes closing with relief. "I'll send this officer away now." She pointed her wand at Roux and he vanished from sight.

"Where did he go?" asked Monique.

"I'll show you," Sabine said, reaching into the other pocket in the folds of her gown and pulling out a small Magic Mirror. "Look."

Adelaide and Monique gasped. Roux's lifeless-looking body was now reclined on a bench in the middle of the Seine park. In _public_. His clothing had changed from a fine suit to torn, dirty rags. A newspaper covered his face.

"He'll be completely ignored," said Sabine. "No _Sans-Magie_ I've ever met has charity in their hearts for beggars and street layabouts of their kind. Not even my husband! The poor man will wake after several hours, unless someone decides to bury him alive."

"I'm _Sans-Magie_ and I've been charitable to the very poor," Adelaide protested. "A _few_ times. When I have a spare sou-"

"Now...for the difficult part," Sabine cut her off. "Monique, I want you to stay with Mademoiselle Adelaide. Adelaide, if you want to take Monique out for a walk outside that would be good, or you two may rest here. I am about to do something that is very risky."

"_Risky?_ Auntie Sabine, please don't leave us here!" Monique protested.

"I _must_, child. You are thirteen years old, a big girl now. And I trust her. Adelaide, you strike me as a pure, kindhearted young lady," Sabine looked into Adelaide's eyes, almost seeming to read into her personality and soul. "Any friend of my Marcel's is a friend of mine. I've decided to help Aloysius, and I'm going to attempt to rescue my son. And anyone _else_ I can rescue from that horrible prison. _Today_!"

"_What?_" Adelaide exclaimed.

"Auntie, _no!_" Monique started to cry. Adelaide put a comforting arm around the girl.

Sabine, clutching the lock of Officer Nicolas Roux's hair in her palm, went into the kitchen. She came out holding a bottle of yellowish colored potion.

"It's dangerous! Can't you ask someone _else _to do it?" Monique sobbed.

Adelaide and Monique watched, barely breathing, as Madame Sabine opened the cork on the bottle and dropped the hairs inside. The liquid inside bubbled up; a few drops of foam escaped from the top and drizzled over. Its color changed from light yellow to muddy brown.

"Monique, honey...have you learned about the Potion of _Dupliquer_? Did they talk about it in school last year?" Sabine asked her niece.

"N-no," Monique said in a stammer, twisting a long curl of her dark hair around her finger nervously. "It was only my second year. We learned to make healing potions. That was all. Professeur Travers says we won't be old enough to work with other potions until we're sixteen."

"Then what you are about to see, may scare you. I'm very sorry, honey."

Adelaide's heart began to pound.

Sabine drank the potion, her eyes watering from the unpleasant taste. When she put the empty bottle down, she tried to hold back a choking cough. She grimaced in discomfort, and her appearance began to change before Adelaide's and Monique's eyes. She grew taller. Her skin paled.

Within ten seconds, instead of Monique's beloved Auntie, there stood the man known as Nicolas Roux, officer of the law for _Le_ _Minist__ère. _

"Where's my Auntie? What did you do with her?" screamed Monique. Adelaide gasped.

"It is still me, _ma petite,_" the man said in Madame Sabine's voice. "I must go."

The person, whether or not that person was Roux or Sabine- vanished from the air, leaving Adelaide and Monique completely alone. The girl was sobbing. Adelaide's motherly instincts took over and she embraced her tightly as if she were her own child.

"Monique, let's go out and walk. We could go to my parents' house and have tea with them. My Maman loves children. As long as you don't do any magic in front of her."

"I'm not _allowed_ to do magic yet," Monique said, wiping an eye. "Only in school. I wish I were there now. What if my Auntie doesn't come back?"

"Honey...where are your parents?"

"My Maman and Papa have gone to England to escape the...the Magical government. I wish they could be here!"

"Let's go outside, Monique. All we can do now is wait." Adelaide took the small girl's hand in hers, guiding her out the door.

...

A few hours later that evening, Gaston had given the Paris law officers the address to Madame Sabine's home. He personally led a policeman to the same block of Rue Madeleine, looking for the address, the building with the number 1344. When they arrived, Gaston pointed out two similarly styled buildings, 1343 and 1345.

"It _should_ be here," he said, his eyes narrowed.

"Monsieur, you must be mistaken," the policeman said. "The addresses are all odd numbers on this side of the street, it looks like. But I don't know, I'm new to Paris. Just got the job."

Gaston glanced on the other side of the street. The building numbers were all in the 1330s. A few children played happily across from them, kicking small balls. Two older women sat upon the steps, chatting. A few birds were heard on the rooftops. It was a humble and plain neighborhood, yet pleasant.

"But it was just _here!_ I was just _inside_ the place! 1344 Madeleine, I swear! There were all kinds of...purple flowers in front of the house!" Gaston looked back and forth. There were no homes with purple flowers. "Maybe it was the other block!"

They walked over to the next block. The building numbers were in the 1400's, and there were no flowers to be seen, purple or any other color.

"But the building was _here_! I swear it! The woman living there planted purple flowers!" Gaston yelled.

"Perhaps you should go home and rest, Monsieur," said the police patrol man. "It wasn't anyone you knew who died anyway. People die. Fact of life." He patted Gaston's shoulder in a rather condescending way.

"I _know_," Gaston said, trying to control his temper. "I fought in a _war_!"

Reluctantly, he gave up his mission to catch a murderer and found his way home shortly after. Emilie greeted him at the door with a loving embrace and kiss.

"Is everything all right? You seem troubled," she asked him.

"It's your sister. She's still getting caught up in sorcery and she won't stay away from those freak people!" he lamented, now sad more than angry.

"Gaston, she fell in love. Simple as that. And from what I remember, he wasn't a 'freak.' He was a sweet man," Emilie argued.

"But a lot of the others _are_!" he shot back. "Let's go to your parents' house and tell them. This is serious, _ma cherie_. There are a lot of bad apples in the warlock world, and Adelaide is too naive to understand that!"

He sighed in frustration while Emilie embraced him, planting kisses on his cheek, not wanting to admit she was getting worried as well.

...

_A.N. - Apologies for so long between updates. Life and work is so busy. :( _

_You might have noticed Toulouse's last name, and how that could be a crossover reference. I had gone to the French surnames website that I always use whenever I need OC names in my BatB stories. I saw 'Granger' on the list, and thought, why not? It's fun. If you want to imagine he's a centuries ago ancestor of Hermione's, that's okay. Again, credit goes to JK Rowling for worldbuilding ideas. _


	10. Incognito

Chapter 10- Incognito

…

Sauvageon had taken Aloysius and Toulouse in his custody. Within moments, he'd whisked them away from the woman's home. The three of them re-materialized at the Great Atrium of _Le Ministère._

An elegant marble fountain towered before them; an alabaster Grecian-style statue of a barely-clothed woman, holding a gold-plated wand in one of her outstretched hands. At her feet was a pool of bubbling water.

Sauvageon forced the two men to step into the pool. They did so quietly and obediently, before the officer himself stepped in. Their shoes and stockings became soaked.

Sauvageon reached into his pocket and took out his pouch of Enchanted dust, which Bertrand had supplied him with in his office. He took a small handful of the reddish brown powder and dropped it in. The color of the water changed, from its natural reflective clear color to a blood red.

In an instant, the three wizards transported once again. They stood together inside a large copper basin at the end of a darkened hallway.

"Step forward," Sauvageon ordered, taking each new prisoner by the elbow on each side. They stepped out of the basin, splashing some water on the floor, and walked down the torch-lit corridor. As their eyes adjusted, they were met with magical creature guardians. A huge black cat with blue glowing eyes approached them, hissing.

Sauvageon held his arm out and attempted a wandless spell to repel the animal, but the creature continued to advance and hiss louder, much to his frustration. Footsteps sounded from further down the hallway, and a guard appeared.

"Sauvageon- what are you _doing_ here? We were told you were under observation by our Lord Minister!" the man said. He sent a shock with his wand to the cat, it howled and backed away.

"Our Lord Minister Bertrand has full trust in me, Claude! Allow me and my prisoners through."

"Chief Jailer Beaufort has informed me that _until_ I get the message from Lord Minister or Officer Roux, we are not authorized to let you incarcerate anyone."

"Roux was with me when I apprehended these men," Sauvageon argued back. "He was on his way here, but...something came up," he faltered. "Now take these men and confiscate their wands and possessions!"

Aloysius looked over at the frightened Toulouse, just behind Sauvageon's shoulder. He tried to give the boy an encouraging look. He pointed a finger to his head, and Toulouse nodded, calmly.

A _whoosh_ sound came from behind them, the sound of someone else transporting by magic. The guard Claude widened his eyes in recognition of the newest person stepping from the copper water basin, which served as the entry and exit point of _La Maison pour_ _Crimes Noirs. _

"Officer Roux! I am glad you are here to solve this little confusion we're having!" he greeted.

…

Agathe, Marcel, and Robert were descending into apathy as their imprisonment wore on. Marcel's initial joy at LeLoup's-or Robert's- survival had brought him relief and some renewed strength, but it was now his fourth morning without food. He lay quietly, a passive listener to the conversation between Agathe and Robert in which he had no energy to join.

"I cannot tell you whether or not I have fallen in love, because for one, I am not certain. And two, that is not your business, dear," the old woman insisted.

"Everyone falls in love at least once in their life, Mademoiselle!" Robert proclaimed. "I am doomed, but at least I can say I once loved and lost. I never held anything against my Marie. She simply could not handle the danger of my condition."

"I am sorry for your unfortunate circumstances," said Agathe. "As much as I often feel sorry for myself. No one wins or triumphs in a place like this. I suppose...the best we can all do is to await death with honor. I only wish my _own _death can come before that of you two boys."

Her frail voice broke with emotion, causing a flash of indignant anger on the part of her werewolf neighbor over their shared fate.

"But Agathe, don't you have any family up there?" Robert asked her. "Loved ones missing you? And I mean family members _besides_ the one who threw you in here to rot!"

"I do. A cousin," she replied quietly. "He and I were as close as siblings. Part of me holds a small hope that he is working to free me."

Robert scoffed. "You have a cousin who you think can _free_ you? How powerful a wizard is he? He would need to be even more powerful than the 'Lord Minister' and his entire council. What is his talent?"

"He has two main talents," replied Agathe. "Potions and Age-Shifting. But what's more, he is a clever man and very unassuming. He has spent the last years incognito among _Sans-Magies_, just as I had been. Living on the fringes in Paris, while I'd been spending my time in the more provincial parts of France."

Robert paused for a moment. He glanced over at Marcel, who lay with his face to a wall. "Are you awake over there, _mon ami_?"

"I am. Uh, Mademoiselle Agathe?" Marcel asked.

"Yes, dear?"

"Are you speaking of Aloysius?"

"I am," replied Agathe.

"He's well acquainted with my mother."

"That's nice to know, Marcel," Agathe replied. To Marcel, her tone seemed dismissive, as if he were just a dumb little boy. He sat up slowly, wincing in pain as his stomach cried out for sustenance.

"You don't even know who my mother _is_, do you?" he said with ire. "Sabine-Marie Clement Djokoto. She was a great Potions Mistress. Of course, she did not go to the Acadèmie as a girl, because she grew up in Africa. But she had plenty of time to perfect her work."

"I have _not_ heard of her," Agathe said. "But then you must remember I have lived among _Sans-Magies_ for over the last ten years."

"And so has my mother. She's _married_ to one now. If she and Aloysius are associating together...with their potions and all, well...maybe…" Marcel sighed and let his thought trail.

"Forget it, _mon ami," _said Robert. "No one will be able to break into this prison to find any of us! Remember the dust they put in that pool up there? Made the water turn to blood red and became a portal? Is _that_ what Sauvageon did to bring you here?"

"Yes," Marcel sighed. "First I was transported to _Le Ministère's_ headquarters. There was a big fountain pool, with a statue. Sauvageon took some dust or powder out of his pocket. It looked like...cinnamon, or some kind of red spice." He paused to swallow, the memory of his mother's cinnamon-covered croissants filling him with longing. "Sauvageon dropped it in the pool, and as soon as the water turned to blood, we were transported down here. It's not as if anyone from above can walk down a staircase to get to this prison."

Agathe nodded. "It isn't as if the guards and officers would give their precious dust to anyone. It would have to be stolen. But I am not sure that Aloysius would be someone to steal it. He's never seemed brave enough."

That moment, the three of them heard a great commotion coming from down the hallway. The squalls of giant cats, the cracks of wands, yells of men. Sets of footsteps pounded down the far staircase of their cell block and grew closer.

"Who the hell is _that_?" Robert growled. "A new arrival? Must be fighting off the guards, poor unfortunate soul. Wonder who he is?"

He, Agathe, and Marcel caught sight of three individuals as they approached their glass cells, running frantically. The newcomers stopped and turned to look at the inmates. Marcel recognized two of the men. Officer Roux, the one Ministry agent who had always seemed to be above Sauvageon in rank. The other was Aloysius. A small-framed boy of about eighteen was with them.

"_Agathe_!" cried Aloysius. "We're breaking you out. And you as well, Monsieur Clement!"

"Aloysius? How did you...?" Agathe cried out. She caught sight of Officer Roux, who to her disbelief, pointed his wand straight at Marcel's wall and caused the glass of his cell to vanish.

Another loud _crack _sounded behind the new arrivals. The youngest man had sent a killing electric shock to one of the _Centipedes Gras. _The creature fell away, its loathsome body charred like a burned sausage.

Marcel, in his confusion, did not understand what was going on. Why was Officer Roux opening up his cell wall, instead of swiftly locking up Aloysius and his companion? The thought came to him that perhaps there was no more room in the prison, and they needed to resort to double occupancy. As much company as Robert and Agathe gave him, having Aloysius in their midst would be welcome. Perhaps the man could sneak him some food if he lived with him…

His thoughts were interrupted by the feel of the aging Ministry agent's arms embracing him. He recoiled and tried to push the man away.

"What? Get away-"

Officer Roux pulled back and stared at Marcel, eye to eye. The man was about Marcel's height of five foot eleven or so, and his eyes were bloodshot. He reached up to his own shirt collar and tugged it aside, pulling out a necklace he was wearing.

It was a necklace bearing an amethyst butterfly charm. His Maman always wore one exactly like it, and his little cousin Monique wore a similar one as well. It represented his school division, the House of the Butterfly.

"So you're from my own school House?" Marcel scoffed, still trying to back away from the stony-mannered agent, who'd had Sauvageon as his sidekick for the last several years. "I would have thought you were a Shadow Moon, like Sauvageon and most of _Le Ministère'_s swine. That doesn't prove you're sympathetic! Even Butterfly and Five Leaves members can be vile supremacists!"

"You haven't lost your spirit, Marcel," Roux whispered to him in what sounded almost like a feminine whisper. "You are free. We have no time to waste, come with me!"

Roux grasped his hand as if he were four years old, and tugged him out into the hallway. Marcel saw Robert sitting in his cell, the big man looking like a wounded, forlorn wolf.

"_Robert_!" Marcel exclaimed. "Officer, please- take him out as well. He deserves a chance to live!" he said, pointing at his friend. Roux gave in to Marcel's request. He pointed his wand at Robert Lefebrve's glass wall, and it vanished.

Aloysius, standing in the hall and now in possession of a wand, began to yell in anxious haste. "Agathe! Clement! And _you_!" he shouted to Robert. "Come with us! Run! Hurry! We have no time to waste!" With that command, Aloysius began to run back down the hall, followed by Toulouse who held Agathe by the elbow trying to tug the old woman along.

"I'm _freed_?" Robert said with a furrowed brow, dumbfounded. Roux reached out and clutched the man's shoulder with his other hand, yanking him from his longtime home as he stepped out- for the first time in years. Roux rushed Robert along the corridor.

Marcel could barely walk in his famished, weakened state. He quickly found himself being manhandled and half-dragged by the burly wolf man. As they passed the glass cells which held the other unfortunate inmates, he was shocked to see Sauvageon inside the cell at the very end. The officer screamed and pounded the glass with his fists in fury when he saw Marcel being half-walked, half-carried by the sturdy werewolf.

"_Clement_!" Sauvageon bellowed.

"Ignore him," Aloysius said with firmness. "He can stay there for now."

Marcel felt a bittersweet tinge of pity at the sight of the man he'd once obeyed and admired. The screaming faded. He felt Robert pulling his left arm up so that he was supported on the big man's right shoulder as he was dragged along.

"I finally get the pleasure of touching you," said Robert with a smirk as they followed Roux, Aloysius and the others to the bottom of a winding iron staircase.

"Shut up," Marcel retorted.

Roux turned for a moment and faced them. "Did I hear you say 'shut up'?'" he asked in what clearly sounded like a woman's voice. "Language, _mon petit!_"

Marcel's mouth went wide. There was no way! Could it possibly be?

Relief and joy surged through the whole of his being, as the group climbed, Agathe and Marcel with help, up the staircase. They took a left turn, led by Aloysius and Toulouse. They raced along another corridor, dragging one another into the dark, eerie looking portal room with the large copper basin filled with a shallow bit of water.

Roux motioned for Aloysius and Agathe to step in the basin first. Aloysius pulled a handful of Enchanted Dust from his pocket and dropped it in. He and Agathe vanished immediately.

The teenaged young man stepped into the basin the same second the other two had disappeared. By then, the four of them could hear footsteps and yelling from the staircase. The prison guards.

"_Stop them!_ There's been an attempted jailbreak! Sound the alarms!" a man below was heard shouting. An ear-blasting siren sounded. It pained Marcel's ears, but it hastened him and Robert on.

"All four of us now- there's no _time_!" Toulouse screamed in anxious haste. He motioned for all of them to step together inside the water-filled bowl alongside him. Robert helped half-lift Marcel's weakened legs in. The cool water enveloping Marcel's feet felt comforting.

Was he going home? Could Roux actually be Maman, using Potion of _Dupliquer?_

"_Maman!"_ Marcel shouted at Roux's black frock-coated back. The man turned around again. There was nothing in the features of this person to make him believe he could be his dear Maman in disguise.

"You...are you my mother? You _sound_ like my mother!"

Roux held his index finger to his lips. He tapped it three times to 'shush' Marcel, his eyes widening. Marcel's heart leaped. That gesture and look- one he'd known for nearly twenty-six years- was all he needed.

The person who looked just like Nicolas Roux fumbled in their pocket and pulled out a handful of the same cinnamon-colored dust. Marcel saw two men running towards them with their wands out, coming closer. An electric shock curse from a guard's wand hit his leg. He screamed in agony. The siren continued to pound his ears, and his leg burned.

The pain and weakness and hunger all were all too much for him. He lost consciousness while still in Robert's grasp.

...


	11. A Narrow Escape

Chapter 11- A Narrow Escape

…

The group of fleeing Enchanters surfaced in the fountain pool, back at the Great Atrium of _Le Ministère_. Robert, blinded by the brilliant sun of the outside world, nearly stumbled while he kept Marcel's limp form supported in his arms.

The werewolf blinked at the great statue of an Enchantress in pale marble. The bright reflection of sunlight in the pool made it hard to process the reality of his freedom. Glancing down at his friend, he saw that Marcel was still out cold, his eyes closed. The man's right trouser leg was ripped open, an area of burned skin and an open wound beneath it.

"_Merde_! Help! We need some Healer help, damn it!" Robert cried out.

Marcel was getting too heavy for Robert to support any longer. He lowered the younger man down into the shallow pool of water face up, holding his head above the water and allowing the pool to cleanse the burn wound on his thigh.

Sabine, still in the disguise as Officer Roux, rushed to examine her son. "We _must_ get out of here this instant!" she said to Robert and Toulouse in distress. "This is _Le Ministère_ headquarters and they'll be looking for us!"

Toulouse successfully passed through the portal as well, escaping the prison. He looked around the Great Atrium for Aloysius and Agathe, but the two were nowhere to be seen. He heard the male officer still speaking in a lady's voice while kneeling over the injured man. He began to realize what had just happened.

"Wait- you're _not_ really-" the boy exclaimed.

"It is me, Madame Sabine. And my hour from the potion is now up."

The person's appearance transformed once again. 'Roux' began to shrink in size. The white skin darkened to brown. The aging man's face softened to feminine features, and even the clothes changed- from the black suit, breeches and boots of the officer to the feather-trimmed white dress that Sabine had worn earlier that day.

"Great Merlin!" Robert exclaimed in shock. "You're a _woman_? How'd you _do_ that?"

"She used Potion of _Dupliquer!_" said Toulouse, in a didactic tone. "Didn't you ever pay attention to Potion classes back in school? Even if you weren't assigned to make it, you ought to have _read_ about it in the book-"

"Books weren't my forte, little man!" Robert argued. "You sound just like my damned father. I was more into _natural_ studies. I was a Five Leaves-"

"_I'm_ a Five Leaves, too. And I kept to a rigorous academic life," Toulouse retorted.

"We don't have time to argue!" Sabine chided, her eyes scanning the _Le_ _Ministère_ headquarters building for the signs of other wizards. She remained kneeling down in the pool, getting her white dress soaked, examining her son. Robert and Toulouse heard her quietly whispering spells. The spells must have been those of healing, because to their relief, they saw the wound of burned and reddened skin on Marcel's leg disappear.

Sabine glanced up and saw a large group of black-cloaked men rushing out of the door of _Le Ministère_ headquarters. Panicked, she wrapped her arms around her unconscious son and they both vanished. The pool water churned and swirled from the Magical energy of their departure.

Toulouse and Robert were left alone, standing in the pool beneath the grand statue. The men in the distance spotted them and began to advance.

"Do you have a wand?" Toulouse asked Robert nervously, reaching into his pocket to grasp the handle of his wand.

"What do you _think_?" Robert replied. "I've been in prison for years, do you think they'd let me keep mine? I have one weapon to my name, little _garçon_, and it doesn't come to me until the damned _moon_ is full!"

"Gentlemen! State your names and your business here!" one of the officials commanded as the group approached the pool.

"My name is Monsieur LeLoup! And it is my business to _eat you alive_!" Robert roared, his words ending in a maniacal laugh.

The gentleman's eyes widened; he reached to draw his wand. Officials behind him moved to draw theirs, but they were a split second too late. Toulouse had his wand drawn out while Robert was threatening to eat them.

"_Abeilles!_" Toulouse shouted. The swarm of bees surrounded the Ministry officials, stinging and buzzing and bringing the men to their knees. It was enough to allow Toulouse to clutch Robert by his tattered shirtsleeve and quickly vanish into thin air.

The two reappeared in a house, someone's modest kitchen. A woman was cooking in a pot held over a fire.

"Maman," Toulouse said to the woman, "I brought a friend for dinner. I hope you don't mind."

…

Sabine transported herself and her son to her own home, to the spare bedroom Marcel had occupied whenever he came to visit on holidays. She used her wand to help him to the metal-framed feather bed, thankful that she'd been able to heal his leg with a spell.

She found a quilt, covered him with it, and proceeded to watch over him. Her grown son's eyes remained closed in sleep. He'd grown a short beard, which made him look more mature than ever. Sabine ran her hand through the black curls of his hair. She put a hand on his thin, hunger-flattened chest, and felt a clear heartbeat.

"Monique?" Sabine called to her niece, wondering if she was downstairs. There was no answer. The _Sans-Magie _girl named Adelaide had taken her out of the house and hadn't returned yet.

…

Monique was having a pleasant time walking the streets of Paris with Mademoiselle Adelaide, an eager listener to her tales about Magical life and her school.

"So they teach you how to make witches' brew, cast spells, and fly on brooms? I can't believe that's actually real!" Adelaide said in wonder.

"It's real! I can't wait until one week from now, when I start again," said Monique with enthusiasm. "In October, the first _Boule_ _de Plume_ games will be held. My friend Odette, Marie's older sister? You know, my best friend Marie, like I said? She plays for the team _Étoiles Bleu._ They won the school championship last year! They went to England to play their school's champions, and Odette told me and Marie that the English team was full of nasty cheaters! She was knocked off her broom by some Brit boy, and she had to quickly perform a Levitation charm! Otherwise she would have fallen to her death."

"Girls are allowed to play _Boule de Plume_?" Adelaide asked.

"Of course! We can fly and bat balls just as well as boys can. Except the goal tenders are usually boys...you said you met my cousin Marcel, didn't you?" she asked, her excited tone saddening a little.

"Yes, Monique, I knew him-"

"A long time ago when he went to the Académie, he played for _Étoiles Bleu _just like Odette, and he had the most important position. His role was to seek out the _Boule de Plume_ and catch it for bonus points. He was so good he played professionally! Did he tell you that?"

"He never told me he played professionally, but- oh, _no!_" Adelaide cried out, remembering something. "Monique- I have to go back to the hotel. Do you mind walking with me? I just remembered- I need to officially quit my job there. The manager will be angry with me, but who cares, I hate cleaning! I left Marcel's _Boule de Plume _in the hotel and I want it back! I hope no one stole it!"

"You left his _Boule de Plume_ in a _Sans-Magie_ hotel?" Monique said with an air of judgment. "When did he give you one?"

"His sister gave it to me. It's a long story," Adelaide said, walking faster toward the street crossing and hoping the young girl followed. "Monique, do you want to come with me, or would you rather go back home?"

"I can come with you. I can't use magic to help you find it, though."

The two crossed the busy street with the aid of a traffic gendarme. Adelaide led Monique to the grand _L'Hotel de Brumagne. _She rushed up the stairs and found her employee lodging room on the top floor. The door was locked.

"Now I'll have to go find my boss and ask for my things back," she said with apprehension. She'd meant to go back to her job site and officially quit, but with her memory having been erased and restored- followed by being a witness to another Enchanters' battle- it had been the last thing on her mind.

Adelaide and Monique walked down the flights of steps and shyly approached the front desk, where Adelaide found a different man in the role of concierge. Of course, Aloysius had been briefly employed there, and so had Toulouse. She wasn't the only one who'd walked off the job.

"Monsieur, may I speak to Monsieur Poulin? I am a former housekeeper, and I left some belongings here."

"Are you one of the people who walked off the job yesterday?" the new concierge said dismissively. "Anything that those fools owned were either gifted to other employees, or thrown in the rubbish."

"Yes," Adelaide said, tears of mortification burning in her eyes. "I never meant to 'walk off,' Monsieur. I became ill! Could I please speak to Monsieur Poulin to officially resign?"

He scowled. "Sophisticated words for a mere cleaning maid." He turned to Monique. "Young lady, if I get Monsieur Poulin, would _you_ be interested in joining us? We need help in the housekeeping department."

Monique frowned. "But I don't _know_ how to clean," she replied.

The concierge scowled once more, eyeing little Monique with disdain. "Then what _use_ would a girl like you be? Unless you belong to _her_?" He addressed Adelaide. "How could _you_ afford to have a servant girl?"

"Forget it!" Adelaide snapped angrily. "She's _no one's_ servant girl! She does not 'belong' to me, or anyone else, except her family! She's a thirteen-year-old child! We're leaving."

Within moments, the two had exited the hotel building. Adelaide sighed with regret for her carelessness, mixed with anger at that swinish man. She could no longer hold back her frustrated tears; she started to sob silently as they walked, until she took a break to sit down on a nearby street bench.

"Mademoiselle Adelaide," Monique consoled, "please don't cry. Perhaps I can get my Auntie to help find your things, and Marcel's _Boule de Plume,_ with her magic?"

"I lost some old clothes and things I owned, but those are replaceable. What breaks my heart is that I lost Marcel's _Boule de Plume!_ I wanted to hold on to it forever!"

"He was a close friend, then?"

"We only knew each other a few weeks. But we spent an entire carriage journey talking. You know when you just click with someone? That's what happened. But for most of that time I didn't know he was an Enchanter."

"I'm surprised he _wanted_ to be friends with you," said Monique.

"What do you mean? I think he was just as fond of me as I was of him," Adelaide said, wiping an eye.

She was quite stung by the remark. Naturally, a girl getting her education at a great Magical Académie, filled with glamorous, beautiful Enchantresses and dashing young Enchanters, wouldn't believe one of their kind would be interested in someone as plain and ordinary as Adelaide.

"Marcel didn't talk to_ Sans-Magies_ very much," said Monique. "They treated him the same way that man at the desk treated me. None of us like being looked down upon. Especially not for a stupid reason as our skin color."

"Oh...I understand," Adelaide said, feeling better. "I would've _never_ looked down on him, or you either. And I thought he was _so_…" She paused. "Friendly and nice."

She corrected herself quickly in front of the teenager. She'd been about to say 'cute and charming' like a lovestruck schoolgirl, but felt the need to be an adult and keep her romantic life to herself, especially to the family. She'd just met them. If Marcel were to die in prison, she did not want to be thought of as some wanton pursuer of their lost loved one- whether she was _Sans-Magie_ or Magical. She decided to keep that private.

"He _was_ nice. Always kind to me, better than a big brother," Monique said, her dark eyes reddening. "He might end up stuck inside that prison until he _dies_! I'm losing my family, Mademoiselle Adelaide! My Maman and Papa had to flee Paris for England because they know my Maman can't do magic!"

The girl began crying now, and it was Adelaide's turn to console her. "She was born a Defective, just like my cousin Jacinta. So she's forbidden to be even _married_ to a wizard!"

"Your parents can't be married to each other?" Adelaide asked. "They were married already, weren't they?"

"_Oui_. Fifteen years. Their names are Edouard and Celeste Guerin. Maman is African, and Papa is a Frenchman, he has pale white skin. But it isn't because of color, it's because of magic."

"I don't understand how that can change."

"Because it's a blood crime," she said sadly. "It never used to be, but now it is! My parents were sent a letter ordering them to go to the _Le Ministère _building and break up their marriage, or else they'd lose the right to be citizens of Magical France! Or be taken to prison! It's the new Minister's laws. So they left!" she said tearfully, trusting Adelaide as a confidante in all her fear and despair. "And not only that...I'm called a _Sang-Sale, _because I'm her daughter. So they might not even let me into school this year!"

"I'm sorry...I don't know what to say."

The girl allowed Adelaide to hug her, and she did so with a motherly instinct. Adelaide wondered again why these people who seemed so _normal_, could be born in a separate society she hadn't been aware of before. A frightening society of the strange and supernatural. She hadn't even seen Monique do anything magical since she'd met her.

"Monique," Adelaide said after a moment, "why would they call you 'dirty blood?' It sounds cruel. Is that what they call people whose relatives have no magic?"

"Yes," the girl nodded, sniffling.

"And they force married couples to break up? That's terrible!"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore, Mademoiselle Adelaide," the teenager mumbled quietly. Her pretty tan hands covered her face in distress. Tendrils of hair had escaped her braided bun and blew in the breeze.

Two well dressed gentlemen walked past Adelaide and Monique. They gave them the same scowling look the hotel concierge had given them earlier.

"_Excusez-moi, _you girls. We need to use that bench. Go _home_, please." one of them demanded.

"We will," Adelaide mumbled, standing and taking Monique by the arm, too tired and cross to even want to protest. They began to walk again, heading in the direction of the Third Quartier of town, empty handed of the things that Adelaide had hoped to recover.

"At least those men weren't wizards," Monique said once they were a block away.

"How can you tell they weren't wizards?"

"Because they left me alone, and they didn't poke around in my business. Being a girl and being ignored and looked down on is a _good _thing right now," Monique said, drying her tearstained cheek with her sleeve. "Being out in public where almost everyone's a _Sans-Magie_ is safe, Auntie says. They can't draw their wands or use magic in the middle of the city streets. They're scared of being seen and getting in trouble. But they can 'magic' themselves to other Magical homes, and that's what just happened. Auntie wasn't careful enough. She forgot to put more charms on the house."

Adelaide gave her a smile of encouragement. "So they can only do their evil in certain places. They can't expose themselves." She laughed a little, thinking of Sauvageon and how he likely broke his own law.

The two crossed another busy street filled with people, carriages and horses. When they reached the Third Quartier neighborhood, they tried to walk in the areas most occupied by other people. As they went further from the businesslike midtown and more into the general neighborhood, the people became less elegantly-dressed. More women and children appeared, and Adelaide and Monique waved at each group in a friendly manner, exchanging greetings of '_Bonjour_' to everyone they passed.

"As long as we're out in the sunshine and in a crowd, we're fine," Monique said, now cheerful. "But I'm hungry. Aren't you?"

"Thirsty _and_ hungry. I still have some money in my purse. I have no job, so I don't want to spend too much. Would you like me to walk you home?"

Monique nodded, and the two continued to walk for ten more minutes. Adelaide was confused at first when Monique rushed to a narrow space between two buildings. She began to knock on air like a mime performer. Her face was a picture of worry and distress.

"Monique, honey, that's not your house. You're knocking on air."

"It's right here. Auntie Sabine enchanted our house. It can only be seen and entered by her and I. And anyone who's a member of my family," she replied. "I only hope she makes it back safely!"

"It's hard to believe what she said she was going to do!" Adelaide said, while she watched Monique pull an invisible rope, likely a doorbell. "Disguised as a man, going to the prison to try to rescue Marcel? Aloysius was just taken, and _he_ was the one planning to break Marcel and another Enchantress out. And I was going to help Aloysius collect potion ingredients first!"

"Auntie Sabine has all the potions needed," said Monique. "You saw her use _Dupliquer_ potion to turn into the officer."

"But how can she fight the prison guards? She's just one lady."

"She's a powerful Enchantress, Mademoiselle. Just as much as any man."

"I'm glad you have faith in her," Adelaide said nervously.

"I do...but I'm still scared." the girl admitted. In her blue ruffle-bottom dress and braided hair, Adelaide thought she looked so tiny and young, barely past the age of playing with dolls. "If she doesn't come back, I'm afraid to be home by myself."

Adelaide's heart went out to her. "If your Auntie isn't back, you can come home with me. I'll wait here and make sure she answers!"

"All right. _Merci._" Monique smiled, enough to show a dimple in her cheek. Just then, Adelaide saw Madame Sabine's head and shoulders appear out of what looked like a patch of heat haze in the air. It resembled the natural heat waves one would see above a fire.

"_Ma_ _Petite!_ I'm home! Come inside!" Sabine took Monique's hand and gently tugged her inside. The girl, her aunt, and the patch of haze vanished.

Adelaide stood on the street dumbfounded for a few moments. She wished she could step forward and try to knock on the invisible door herself. But two men walked by, workers laughing together at a shared joke. _Sans-Magie_ men, ordinary and plain, like her. They would find her quite crazy and odd to be knocking on air.

She turned and walked a few blocks to her parents' home, went upstairs to the second floor flat, let herself in, and greeted her mother in the small kitchen.

"Maman?"

"Addie! What have you been up to today?" her mother asked. "Did you go to work?"

"No, Maman. I decided to quit. I'm sorry but it wasn't working out. I'm not meant to do so much tedious cleaning all day."

She frowned. "I understand. But I _told _you it was a bad idea to stop working for the Marquis' family. You had such a good situation before, as a personal maid for Lady Evangeline. Living in a fine home with room and board- don't you _miss_ them?" Madame Fortier asked, gesturing with thinly veiled exasperation.

"I do. But I don't know if I want to go back there, either."

"_Ma petite_, you aren't getting any younger." Madame Fortier said quietly. She did not need to say more; the message about Addie's spinsterhood was as clear as ever. "Emilie and Gaston were here earlier. And Gaston was saying some very strange things about you."

"What strange things?" Adelaide searched for a cup on the tea tray and helped herself to some cooled-off tea. She drank up one cup, then quickly refilled another, looking for any leftover biscuits or bread.

"We had dinner but there's still stew in the pot, honey. Help yourself," Madame Fortier said. "I'm concerned, Addie. Gaston was saying that you have some strange new friends- and that they practice witchcraft."

Her eyes widened with alarm for a moment, but she quickly came up with a feasible reply.

"Maman, he teases me about that all the time! He thinks some of my friends are odd, so he calls them 'witches and warlocks.' You _cannot_ take Gaston seriously. The man worships his own arm muscles."

"But Emilie was also worried."

"Maman...look at me. Do I _look_ like I'm in danger of being taken away by wizards in flying coaches? Or killed by evil wand-waving men?"

"No, dear, you _don't,_" her mother said, laughing. "There's no such thing as sorcerers when you put it that way! Addie, your sense of humor is a good thing for a woman like you to have. Is that a new dress? It looks very nice," she added, noticing that Adelaide was wearing an outfit she had never seen.

"Thank you."

"Emilie's husband _does_ seem to get too worked up over things, I agree. Emilie didn't say anything bad about your friends. It was all Gaston talking."

"Then that explains it. It's _his_ opinion. And Emilie and I have worried about each other all our lives."

"Just try to keep good company, honey. I wish you still worked for the Marquis. It was a good, comfortable situation for an unmarried woman. Would you consider going back?"

"Yes, Maman. I will consider it. Is it alright with you and Papa if I stay here a while and decide what to do? There's a woman I met today, actually. She's the guardian of a thirteen year old girl who needs a reading tutor. I can teach a child to read and write." Adelaide said on a whim. If she were to keep spending time with magical people, she'd cover it through the ruse of a job.

"Is the lady well-to-do?" her mother asked.

"I wouldn't say very 'well to do,' but I imagine the family gets by decently."

"Nothing wrong with that," Madame Fortier said. "I just want you to be happy, well fed and clothed, that's all I wish for my daughters. Emilie's happy with her simple working husband, after all." She stoked the fire to heat the pot of leftover dinner.

…

Marcel opened his eyes and found himself staring at the ceiling of a place much lighter and brighter than the dim, hellish prison cell he'd been accustomed to for weeks.

Had he dreamed of Officer Roux talking in his mother's voice and taking on her character? Of Robert, 'LeLoup,' half-carrying him up a flight of stairs? Of being struck with a lightning shock from a guard's wand? He'd been shocked in his right thigh. The pain had felt very real.

The pain was now gone.

He looked to his right, and saw his dear Maman, wearing a white gown.

"Marcel, please wake up. Open your eyes, _petit_. I'm here. I'm real."

"Marcel, it's me, Monique! Please talk to us," a smaller figure in a blue dress called out. He raised his head, and the blurry vision of his mother and little cousin grew clearer.

"I've got to be _dreaming,"_ he exclaimed, his head falling back down to the pillow.

"No, you're not!" Monique squealed, and fell upon her cousin's chest, smothering him with embraces. "Welcome back to the family!"

...


	12. The Hideout

Chapter 12- The Hideout

…

"Agathe- I'm so glad you're alive...though you _look_ like death," Aloysius said to his cousin the moment after they Transported themselves from the danger of the fountain pool at _Le_ _Ministère._

They had gone somewhere of Agathe's choosing. Somewhere outdoors, with cool breezes and fragrant air. A place of forest and meadow, with a brilliant blue sky overhead.

He gently held her frail shoulders, surveying her haggard and elderly appearance. Having known her all his life, he knew that she wouldn't take on this form as unless it came to her benefit. Perhaps the prison guards would have been less likely to give her abuse or unwanted attention this way; it made perfect sense.

"I've survived, that is all I can say," she whispered wearily. "Thank you, dear cousin, for rescuing me. I never believed you had it in you."

Aloysius shrugged. "Well, _now_ you can believe it," he added with a wry smile.

_She hasn't changed much after all,_ he thought. She used to make him feel inferior with her sense of smug superiority. After all, Agathe had been a member of the House of Shadow Moon during her Académie years- the traits of power, cunning, and pride, while Aloysius had been destined for the less notable House of the Butterfly- those of gentle nature and friendly sociability. That no longer mattered though, in this day and age.

"Please, I need to lie down," said Agathe. "I needed to use all the energy I have in this old body to transport us. We've traveled well over a hundred miles."

She slumped into an open area of cool grass near a grove of trees, reclining in exhaustion.

"Do you need some water?" Aloysius asked. He waved his recovered wand and conjured a glass bottle of water for her. She drank it for a few moments before fixing a serious gaze at him.

"We need to keep a low profile," she said. "We need to completely disappear from Magical society, Aloysius. So I brought you here. You need to stay as far from Paris as possible, now that you got yourself arrested and brought in. How did they _find _you?"

"How do you _think_?" he asked her with a sting of exasperation. "They have their ways. Their Mirrors, of course. The records they keep on every single Enchanter. And...unfortunately, I had an encounter with your dear nephew Alexis. That night began the end of my secretive life."

Aloysius broke his gaze from his only close relative and looked over his surroundings. They were in a tranquil meadow, surrounded by forests. The treetops were beginning to turn gold in early autumn. The tall spire of a castle could be seen over the treeline.

"Where are we?" he asked. "Wait...there's a castle! Is that the destination you have in mind?"

"Not for now, but I am familiar with that castle, for certain," said Agathe.

"Is that the _Prince's_ palace? The prince you cursed?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes," said Agathe. "We are near the home of Adam and Belle. And my old home. I've been able to conjure up a secret hideout for myself whenever I needed to be in this land."

"It is a pleasant place to stay. Did you interfere in his life after his curse was broken? Do you plan on pestering him some more, now that you are free?" he asked in alarm.

"No, not at all. I only had a few social visits to the couple after their wedding. The first was to soothe my own guilt for the torture I put upon Adam and the servants. I had to explain myself. They were forgiving, and I am glad I paid them that visit. The second time was simply because a little boy who lives in the castle- a maid's son- happened to see me taking a walk by the river while he was playing. And he thought I would like to come to have 'tea with his Mama.' So I could not turn him down. And I visited briefly a third time, while I was working on Gaston's case. I was in my young and beautiful form each time."

"I see. Now for the sake of your health, Agathe, do you plan to change into a younger and healthier form? Or are you…" Aloysius let that thought trail as he gestured to her haggard and wasting appearance.

"I don't plan to die today, Aloysius. In prison, I certainly wished to. But now, seeing this beautiful land...I want peace. To _live_ in peace."

She waved her right hand, closing her eyes to attempt to conjure a cottage for shelter, just as she had before. But now, she had no wand to strengthen the spell her brain was trying to perform. She was greatly weakened by the feat of magic that it took for them to travel.

"Are you attempting to conjure something?" Aloysius asked.

"Shelter," said Agathe. "I had always been able to do it before. During the Prince's curse, I had conjured a cottage just outside of Villeneuve, where I would stay at night while begging in the town during the day. In a way, I _miss_ that life. I learned so much about human nature- who was kind, and who was cruel. _Sans-Magies _are no different from us, only in the things they are unable to do."

Aloysius nodded. "I can conjure a place to stay for the night. Unless we decide to pay a call upon Prince Adam and his bride today."

"Not yet," she replied in a weary whisper. "I need rest and rejuvenation, we need to conjure shelter. After I get a night's sleep, I may decide to Age-Shift again. It is not to my advantage anymore to look old and helpless as it did when I was in prison. The strange thing was, the last time I Age-Shifted, it was in my sleep, due to distress and sorrow."

"That's interesting. I've never Age-Shifted in my sleep," said Aloysius. "Not that I want to. What if I were to go to sleep and wake up as a small boy needing a Maman's care?" Aloysius said with a laugh.

He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it to a flat plain of grass near a canopy of trees. A simple little thatched-roof cottage appeared.

"Thank you, Aloysius. Let's go inside, the sun is about to burn my old skin."

They went inside the cottage, which was spare and empty. Aloysius took a moment to look over the place, and after he had thought for a few moments, he took his wand and went to work, conjuring up pieces of furniture. He created an odd mix of fine Rococo pieces- a floral settee and vases, and charming Colonial furnishings including a walnut dining table with two simple chairs.

"What color bedspread would you like?" he asked his cousin.

"I don't know...blue, perhaps?" Agathe said, watching Aloysius create two spindled four poster beds in the tiny room in the back. Both had blue coverings. The tiny bedroom was windowless and comforting, and Agathe took no time hesitating to fall atop one of the beds in relief.

"Are you going to put an Invisibility Charm on this house? Just in case anyone Magical is nearby?" she asked.

"It would be a good idea. Yes," said Aloysius. He looked over the new hideout, satisfied with his work. "But I am going to feel restless here, Agathe," he pondered as the old woman reclined. "There is nothing to do. How are we going to buy food? I have no Magical money to transform into _Sans-Magie_ money."

"You could go begging, just as I had."

"Or _you_ could go begging," he argued. "Why not go back to the life you had as a beggar woman in that village, if you felt so fond of it?"

"Aloysius, did you forget that the people of that village know of my magic? I was revealed by all to be an Enchantress."

"And that was a grave mistake," he replied.

"What about you? _You _can be the one to help both of us make a living while in hiding," Agathe suggested.

"I hoped to return to Paris. To keep watch over Gaston and Emilie, now that your redemption curse and my guidance has helped them both."

"That is no longer an option!" she said, rising slightly from the bed. "You are now the most wanted by Le Ministère. You would be doomed to be taken back to prison. It was only your friend Sabine's cunning, and _her_ potions, who helped you today."

"Sabine and her family are in danger as well. I need to help them."

"It is not your responsibility to save them," Agathe argued. "It's up to _her_ whether she wants to keep herself and her family in Paris, or to leave. Do you know that Sabine's daughter lives in Prince Adam's castle, just nearby?"

"No," Aloysius said, shocked. "Do you mean there is another Enchantress living there, among the royal family? I did not know that."

"Not an Enchantress," said Agathe. "Sabine's daughter is _Sans-Magie._ She was born Defective, she didn't fit in with the family. She is one of the servants whom I had...turned into an object."

Aloysius glared at his cousin. "One of those cursed servants was Sabine's daughter? Why did you never tell me?"

"Because I'd rather leave my early years and the decisions I made then behind."

"What decisions? Cursing the Prince and the servants was the ultimate dangerous decision. Were there other things?" Aloysius pressed. "Where were you for that year or two, after you finished school at the Académie? You were missing from the Sauvageon family parties, or at least the one I reluctantly attended. I never cared for some of them that much, you know."

"I had a falling out with my father."

"We all know that, Agathe," said Aloysius. "You started to rebel against the family rules about intermingling with _Sans-Magies_, just like I did. But where did you go?"

"Among _Sans-Magies." _She turned her head away from him, her old eyes looking melancholy.

"You look like you regret something, something more than just the curse you put upon Prince Adam and that castle household. What is it? It is only you and I here. You can _tell _me."

The old woman sighed; a look of sorrow on her face. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes tightly, and used all of her remaining energy to Age-Shift. A younger form of the enchantress now lay reclining, wearing a modest but clean dress, dark-blonde hair falling in tousled waves on the pillow. She had not chosen her youngest form, but the one resembling her true age of mid-forties.

"You look lovely," said Aloysius in a wry, placating tone. "Now, can you talk about what you were doing with the _Sans-Magies_ back then?"

Agathe began to reminisce about her past escapades. "After I had a disagreement with my father, I took to wandering around. I found myself here when I was about nineteen or twenty. First in the village of Villeneuve, and then by fate I ventured to the Prince's castle. In Villeneuve, I lived alone in a cottage I had conjured. I performed odd jobs. Washing clothes, sewing, which I was able to do quickly and well, by using magic when the people weren't watching. I made enough coins, and I lived simply. I made friends with a few of the other young women living in Villeneuve at the time. One day, I ended up being given an invitation to a ball by a royal messenger. A ball where it was said that the Prince- not Adam, but his father Louis-Alexandre- was openly inviting all the beautiful young ladies of the land to dance in his royal presence. The girls I was with said that it was exclusive. Only the prettiest of the girls were invited, and my confidence was lifted. It sounded like a lovely night- I could escape and experience what _Sans-Magies_ called their 'magic.' Royalty and finery."

Aloysius listened in interest. "Prince Adam's father held a ball, inviting commoners? Well, that sounds like an enjoyable break from sewing and laundering," he said. "If I had been a pretty girl and had been invited, I suppose I would have been glad to go."

"It was. We went to the castle one evening, a group of three of us. Myself and two other girls, I don't even recall their names, but they were pretty and vain, and wanted the attention of Prince Louis-Alexandre very badly."

"Did you enjoy the evening?"

"Yes...I did. When we arrived, a group of servants told us that the dresses we wore were not good enough, and they made us change into elegant white gowns, all of them matching. I remember a servant saying that if we all dressed alike, Prince Louis would notice us by our faces only, and he would choose the most beautiful ones. That should have been a warning."

"It sounds incredibly shallow," said Aloysius.

"It was, looking back. But I did not mind, I was a young girl of twenty, wanting adventure. I did not think of myself as being the most beautiful, but...what ended up happening was as soon as Prince Louis took his turn dancing with me, he invited me to his parlour alone. He chose _me_ that evening, to be the one to ravish attention on. In the parlour, he gave me a glass of champagne. He did _not_ touch me! Not then. But he let me talk about whatever I wanted to talk about, looking deeply and soothingly into my eyes with his blue ones. He seemed to truly _want_ to befriend me. I told him I had left home, as my family made me feel trapped. Of course, I left out the part about my being Magical. And soon, he told me what any impoverished, runaway, young single lady would want to hear- that he would provide for me a fine place to live, with all his adoration and devotion. He was a handsome, charming Prince, several years older than I, with such a bearing of power! And I was naive."

"What in Good Merlin's sake were you th-" Aloysius spluttered. "You fell in love with Prince Adam's father? Is that what you are telling me?"

"It was not love, Aloysius! It was infatuation!" said Agathe in defense. "Just as I put his son under a spell much later, it was as if he had put me under _his_ spell. I did not care whether or not I was Magical. I only wanted somewhere to belong. So for two months- _only_ two months, Aloysius- I was his secret 'friend.' He gave me my own elegant suite to stay in, and servants to tend to me, though I was advised to dress like a maid. He would visit me for a few hours, a few nights a week, and...we became closer and closer. I thought that he was planning to court me, and this was the way that _Sans-Magie_ royalty did their courting. And what a way to rebel against my father, but to become betrothed to a _Sans-Magie_ Prince!"

"Of _course,_ but-"

"I was not allowed to go anywhere near the West Wing, by both Louis and the servants. But, one day I did go near the West Wing...and I discovered he was already married, and with a child! I saw his wife, Princess Adele-Madeleine, with Adam, their little boy! Louis had been married for years already, but he felt perfectly free to throw festive balls, and to dance and dally with common maidens! _Mistresses_. That was all I _was_ to him. He left to go to the war...and I was filled with sorrow not only for myself, but for his wife. There was no envy on my part towards her. Only hurt and rage towards him."

She gazed up at the low ceiling of the cottage, then back at her cousin. Her face seemed to lose any age or stress lines; she seemed to Aloysius to be relieved to finally tell someone close and trustworthy of her past folly.

"Agathe...I never knew you experienced this," said Aloysius, upon realization that his cousin- who always seemed to pride herself on being an independent spinster in the Enchanted world- had suffered from a fleeting taste of romance at one time. And with a high ranking royal _Sans-Magie_ man at that.

"I left the castle soon after Louis went to war, but I resettled back in the village without much notice. I often saw the Princess and young Prince once in a while...the boy Adam was a spitting image of his father. He adored his mother," Agathe recalled.

"So you spent some time in both the castle, and in the town of Villeneuve? About twenty-six years ago?" Aloysius asked. "What made you want to return? I remember you came back to Paris, you came to visit Celie and I...before she fell ill."

Aloysius felt a sting of grief at the thought of Celie, a girl he had loved when he was a young man. She had been a _Sans-Magie, _a baker's daughter who had lived near his Magical home. She had been a victim of the Paris plague. There was something about his new friend Adelaide Fortier which so reminded him of her- he wasn't sure if it was her curled brown hair, curvy form, or her frank and outspoken manner tamed with kindness, but there had been something about Adelaide that was so uncannily 'Celie.' Perhaps they were related somehow. He swallowed the memory, while he inquired Agathe about her homecoming.

"I decided to return because I missed being able to do my magic, and I wanted to see my father again. He would pass away soon after," Agathe recalled.

"And I am glad you did," said Aloysius. "It was good that you and Auguste were on good terms when he died."

"Yes. I am glad I was there for Father. I should have stayed. But there was always something pulling me toward that castle," said Agathe. "Towards the mother and son. Princess Adele-Madeleine and Prince Adam. I kept going there every once in awhile, just to see them. I had been fond of her, and felt sorry for her husband's lying and deceit. I hoped that his son would grow up to be kind and humble and honest. Like her."

"But when he grew up...for a time, he wasn't."

"No...he changed after his mother died. I had gone back home to Paris, and spent time with the old social circles of my brother and his associates. Auguste Jr.'s little group of cronies. The ones who snubbed you because you loved Celie, and because you were 'odd.' You _know_ my brother's friends I am speaking of."

"_Oui,_ indeed," said Aloysius uncomfortably, as he sat in a Rococo chair near the two beds. "Bartholomé Bertrand himself. And Sabine's first husband, Philippe Clement. And some fellow named Corvus- odd first name, cannot recall his last name. They hated _Sans-Magies_, loved experimenting with Dark magic."

"My brother Auguste Jr.'s old school friends," Agathe said. "All of them were proud members of Shadow Moon, just like me. I remember overhearing their cruel talk. Being Auguste Sauvageon's beautiful younger sister, they liked having me around to flirt with and pour their goblets of mead or wine. And they challenged me to perform contests of Magical skill with them. My large-scale Conjuring and Transformations, and the fact I could Age-Shift. I _know_ my magic is more powerful than Bertrand's, because I often won those little games of skill my brother set up."

"Of course. Just like you enjoyed showing your Transformations to me, but since I can Age-Shift, and do large-scale Conjuring _and_ brew effective potions, I wasn't as impressed," he said with a slight air of teasing. Agathe smiled a bit, then continued.

"Nonetheless, the more I found myself listening to those mens' loose-lipped remarks, the more I became uneasy. Clement was the worst, I thought- the way he talked about his daughter with no magic. He said terrible things about his own little girl, and his wife."

"Sabine made a brave and good choice to leave that man," said Aloysius. "She ended up not needing him as much as she thought. The poor girl, having no magic but being a daughter of his."

"I decided to intervene in her life, which was probably not a good act in hindsight," said Agathe. "I watched over Philippe and Sabine Clement's family, and I saw how sweet and joyful that daughter of theirs was. I knew their son was Magical, but he disappointed Clement also- by being placed as a Butterfly type instead of a Shadow Moon when he went to school."

"And that was one of the reasons I don't fit in with the rest of the clan," said Aloysius. "I'm a Butterfly. Kind, social, a lover of romance and idealism. There is nothing wrong with those traits. Agathe, I think you were mis-sorted. You have Butterfly traits, I think."

"Perhaps I was. I had a combination of both traits. Part of me hoped for Butterfly, but was relieved to be in Shadow Moon. So being a romantic, I watched over the young Clement girl, and I saw she was sending letters by bird post. I used my Magic Mirror and other means to discover that she was corresponding with one of the servants at Prince Adam's castle."

"Is that so? Interesting coincidence."

"And so I intervened and helped her run away. I brought Jacinta Clement to the castle we are now near, so she could be with her _Sans-Magie _beloved. Later, out of curiosity, I visited the castle once again. Not only to see how Sabine's daughter Jacinta- now called Plumette- was faring with her new husband, but how Prince Adam was doing. And that...was when I lost my temper. I completely lost my inhibitions that night! I saw what was happening...I left, and then I came back moments later. I went back to his door, under an Age-Shifting muse, taking the cursed rose in my hand!"

"Oh good Merlin, Agathe! The 'curse of the century,' they call what you did!" Aloysius exclaimed. "What did you see that caused you to become so wrathful?"

Agathe shook her head in disgust. "Prince Adam had grown to a young man by then, His mother had died several years before...but he was just like his father was. The same gaudy, extravagant balls, ladies all dressed alike. This night, it was a masquerade ball. He was judging them on their beauty, and he danced around the ladies as they simpered and twirled to the music, hoping to be the one chosen! I was so crushed that the sweet little boy I had seen had grown to become his father!"

"I understand, dear cousin. Anger and hurt can make us all make wrong choices," Aloysius said, reaching out to touch her hand. "But the _servants_? Including Sabine's innocent daughter? Why?"

"The servants- I made them objects so that they would be bound to the castle. I was afraid that they would all scatter the land and tell _everyone_, can you imagine how much damage and Exposure that one night would cause?"

"But the truth did come out...ten years later. It took time, Agathe, but you _were_ identified as the one who did it. I don't know which wizard found out, but the news made me angry."

"It must have been either my brother, or his son Alexis. They had their means of investigating, and they knew my...personal style of magic. It wouldn't have been hard for them once the news broke two years ago."

"_Oui._ The newspaper headline which put you in infamy," Aloysius shook his head. "Now...Agathe, unfortunately, you are thought of with disdain by Sabine's family. For what you did to the daughter, along with the other servants. When I came to the prison, I saw you had been placed next to Marcel Clement. How did he react to you?"

"He had some contempt towards me, for certain," Agathe said, recalling Marcel's unusually vulgar and angry outburst. "But other times, surprisingly, we got along. I did save his friend's life. The werewolf. After that, he ingratiated himself to me."

"That was good, at least. You saved that werewolf's life? How?"

"Marcel could have killed him in self defense, but I performed an overriding spell."

"Congratulations. So the werewolf fellow is alive today, because of you. I think that makes up for a lot of the harm you did in the past."

"I wasn't honest with Marcel about my past, though. He asked me once if I had known Jacinta Clement when she was young. I lied. I told him I did not, when I had actually intervened to help her be with the man she loved."

"It is up to you if you ever want to tell him the truth. I think that is so long ago, it no longer matters," said Aloysius. Now...I am getting hungry. How are we going to provide for ourselves here?"

"You could go to the castle and beg for some coins?" Agathe suggested, with a slight smile of mirth.

"It sounds degrading...maybe I can look for a job as a servant. A dishwasher again?" Aloysius said with a wry laugh.

"You would gain more sympathy if you were...a young boy perhaps. Do you think you could Age-Shift?"

"You want me to Age-Shift so I can approach the castle? Do you realize how_ ironic_ that sounds?" Aloysius threw his head back and laughed out loud, wiping a tear of mirth from his eyes.

"Yes, Aloysius. You can _do_ it," said Agathe with a smile. "We must do what we can to take cover in these dangerous times."

...

_A.N. - Agathe's backstory. I know it's not the best, but I enjoyed writing it. _

_Here's a fun fact- the title of this chapter is 'The Hideout.' Not far from my home town, there is a rustic stone lodge that was (arguably) the hideout for the famous gangster Al Capone. In fact, it was a zany tourist attraction for many years called 'The Hideout.' The lodge still stands, it's currently being restored by its new owners. It's been disputed around here whether or not Capone stayed in this area very much. Agathe and Aloysius are acting like Al Capone in a way, but of course they're on the good side, hiding from the bad guys in authority. :) _


	13. Reunited

Chapter 13- Reunited

…

Marcel lay in bed, bored, on the third day of recuperation since his escape. After being forced to eat three servings of egg and ham quiche by his mother and Monique, he stood up to get the handful of letters nearby- post from old friends that his mother had collected for the last year and left sitting on a nearby table. His leg was healed, a scar remaining from the wand burn, but nothing terrible. He felt dizzy and lethargic, but the residual pain was gone.

Marcel's weakness was more from inactivity. He wanted desperately to get his old active self back. He missed the two brown bay horses he used to own and drive. Just like Adelaide, they were lost. He no longer had his own wand or Mirror, those belongings were likely confiscated and destroyed down in the prison-but that wasn't important. Since the jailbreak he wondered if it he could possibly locate Adelaide using his mother's Magic Mirror, but he wasn't sure how to ask her about using it.

The previous night while reading the _Enchantment de Paris _newspaper with all its worship of Bertrand, Marcel heard a cat meowing. Maman must have given Monique a new pet. The thought of cats only reminded him of a chance at love cut short.

Sitting up in bed with the letters, Marcel opened the one from his friend Andre first. The handwriting- much more cultured looking than his own- was ink-splotted and familiar. It was dated early in the summer, shortly before the time Sauvageon took him to prison.

Andre was likely not someone he could associate with any longer. The man had been his roommate at school, a fellow member of the House of the Butterfly, but he was from a pure-blooded Enchanter family in high standing, followers of Bertrand's new regime. Besides that, now that he and Andre were grown men, Marcel no longer related to Andre's gossipy nature and petty grievances, a fault Marcel usually forgave as a boy. He sat back in bed to read the letter.

_Mon bon ami Marcel, _

_I am proud to say that I am out of France, traveling Europe and other places! At the moment I am in London. I am still looking for a position, at least something more respectable than selling baubles and knicknacks to witches and their children in shopping markets. Yesterday, I interviewed for a respectable position at an Enchanted bank. I was a bit chagrined to see that I was one of the only human applicants. Supposedly, you have to be a goblin to get a job these days._

_Interesting news- my sister Minette is getting married soon. You would not believe who she is marrying. Sour-faced Corvus, Falco's brother. I know. Remember him? Falco thought of himself as a Boule de Plume god, but he ate his words when your team prevailed! I will never forget his smug face. Those brothers were always hard to get to know, very little warmth or 'joie de vivre.' I swear Falco cheated in games, using mind control to jinx the goalkeeper. Their father Corvus Sr. died in a flying carriage accident the year of our graduation, so I can understand why they aren't the cheeriest types. Wasn't Corvus Sr. a friend of your father's and the Sauvageon family? I know you weren't on good terms with your father. I'm not on the best terms with mine. _

_Regarding my sister and her upcoming marriage, I know my family is ecstatically happy. After all, it is a perfect pure-blood match. Now, Marcel, I am going to tell you that when you just read the previous phrase, you should've read it with sarcasm. In other words, I know about your blood heritage and it doesn't change a thing for me. With Bertrand as the Minister of France now, I do hold you and your family in concern. I want to be certain you are safe. Now, this is just me, myself and I, speaking to you. If you see me, you can be assured of my continued friendship. But if you see my sister Minette, her fiance Corvus, or his brother Falco, and they ask you questions as to where your mother or sister live, please beware. As long as you are still working for Alexis Sauvageon and Le Ministère, you are in good standing. But if anything happens I'm giving you a forewarning of trouble. Please keep your flighty opinions and your ice spells tamed, mon ami, and you will be good to go. _

_Fondly,  
Andre Tomas Rosier_

_June 18, 1776 _

Marcel laughed a little to himself. It was a bit too late now to heed Andre's warning. Shortly after that letter was written, he ended up telling Alexis and _Le Ministère_ he was finished with them, expressed his flighty opinion quite well, and failed to keep his ice spells tamed.

"I'm still good to go, my friend," he said to the letter aloud with a hint of irritation. If Andre was so concerned about him, why didn't _he_ try rescuing him instead of his mother, Aloysius, and some boy? Perhaps he never learned of Marcel's plight. It wouldn't hurt to keep in touch, as long he could trust the man.

The bedroom door opened, and in came Monique with a cat at her feet. "Bonjour! Auntie wants to know if you want me to bring you some tea!"

"Monique...for how long have you had that cat?" Marcel asked, finally getting a look at the cat he had heard meowing the previous night. As soon as he spoke, the cat ran and leapt up to his bed, crawling on his chest and purring almost like his cousin had done when they first reunited.

"She's not our cat, Marcel. She's someone else's. But the lady's a _Sans-Magie,_ so she can't get into the house now-"

"Monique! Get my Maman to come up here and let me borrow her wand. _Right now!" _he whispered intensely, not wanting to shout with the furry cat now licking his face. The cat was golden-beige, and it looked to be not quite fully grown. In fact, it looked very much like the kitten he'd once transformed from a bark beetle and had given to Adelaide.

Later, he'd brought it back to life after it had drowned. It was possible that the animal was forever grateful for his magic, seeming to express an unusually human-like devotion to Marcel at the moment. _It_\- he didn't know how to tell a cat's gender- kept licking his face and purring loudly.

"What do you need?" the girl replied in a question.

"Did you see the cat's owner?"

"Of course I did. She even knows you!" said Monique.

"What was her name?" Marcel asked, leaping to his feet with the cat in his arms. The letters from his old wizard friends fell to the floor.

"Adelaide."

"Adelaide? She came _here_? Monique, she's- well, she was the _last _person I was talking to before Sauvageon snatched me to transport to prison! We-"

"What?" said the young girl, amused. "Do you like her or something?"

"We were _friends_, Monique. Of course I was fond of her," he fumbled before running down the stairs with renewed energy. He approached his mother in the sitting room.

"Maman," he said, hugging her lovingly with one arm while holding the cat in another, "I am forever grateful for you risking yourself to save my life. You're ranked up there as one of the greatest Enchanted mothers of the century- _but_\- I need to ask you something. Please. You _must _undo your charm on this house!"

"Why are you up and running? You should be _resting_!" said Sabine. "I won't undo the charm yet. We are to be magically isolated, and we cannot have anyone we can't trust knocking on our door. I see you found the cat that was hiding. A _Sans-Magie_ girl left her here a few days ago."

Marcel sighed in submission. As always, Maman was right. "I understand. May I borrow your Magic Mirror?"

"You may. I expected you'd want to use it. Who do you want to find?"

"My horses, for one thing," Marcel replied. "Or _two_, actually. Felix and Fifi have been with me for years. I wonder if _Sans-Magies_ took possession of them. If they did, they would find them very unusual."

"You want to continue being a coach driver?" Sabine asked, handing Marcel her Mirror as he sat beside her with the cat in his lap.

"I wouldn't mind. I have to do _something,_ Maman. I've got to get out to the streets of Paris again and behave like a normal man, not a fugitive wizard hiding from the government." He gripped the Mirror in one hand and tried to concentrate.

"Felix and Fifi. The horses. Please show them to me."

The Mirror showed Marcel a brief montage of the lives of his two horses he'd left behind. They now lived in a luxurious stable the size of a house, and were being well cared for.

Marcel recognized Fifi, his coffee-brown mare, being walked by a stout man who was apparently her new caretaker. She whinnied restlessly and then leapt, airborne, flying about six feet above the ground. The man holding onto her reins was lifted as well. They soared higher, nearly the height of the fir trees.

"_Hey!" the stout man shouted, kicking his legs wildly. "Lumiere! Uh...I'm having a bit of a problem with this horse here? May I please have some assistance?"_

"_Monsieur Lefou! Let go of the reins!" shouted a man nearby. The mustached man watched as the other man let go and fell with a painful thump to the ground. Unhurt, the man picked himself up and dusted off. The two watched the horse continue to fly. _

"_And I thought MY horse was a pain in the behind," said the man called Monsieur Lefou._

"Maman, look who it is!" Marcel exclaimed, showing her the mirror. One of the men was none other than his own brother-in-law. _Lumiere_!

The mystery of the whereabouts of Marcel's horses was solved. They were right where Marcel had left them last- at Prince Adam's castle with Plumette and Lumiere. Plumette was certainly aware of the unique qualities of the two animals.

"They want to come home, I think. They're restless. Maman, can't we just transport ourselves to the castle?"

"I'll think about it. I don't feel ready for such travel. Who is going to take care of Monique?"

"_I'm not a baby!_" Monique came into the sitting room, and plopped in a chair across from her aunt and cousin. "You _promised_ me we can visit them in the castle, and that I can come. Why can't we go before I have to leave for school?"

"First of all," Marcel said, "before we make any travel plans, I think we should return this cat to her owner. I'm glad the spells I put on this furry little friend have stayed permanent."

"You put spells on that cat?" Monique asked.

"She was originally an insect," said Marcel. "I think she likes her life much better now."

"How often have you gone about transforming animals?" Sabine asked. She took out her wand and aimed it at the cat in Marcel's arms. He looked horrified.

"_Don't_ change her back!" he shouted, then realized that was rude. "_Please_, Maman."

"I wasn't about to turn her back, I want to examine her spell history. _Magie antérieure."_

The ghostly image of a small beetle floated over the cat's head, as Sabine pointed her wand at it. That image faded, replaced by the image of a drowned, deceased kitten, which then was replaced by the image of the cat's healthy, growing current form.

"I see," said Sabine. "It explains why she's clinging to you like a drunk man on a wild broom."

"Maman, I'm going out to look for Adelaide. She loves this cat. Her name is Lorette." The cat purred louder when her name was spoken. "May I _please_ borrow your Mirror?"

Sabine relented, nodding. "Just don't get yourself caught by anyone from _Le_ _Ministère_ again! Stay in the public eye. Do not go anywhere alone, or any Magical haunts like _Le_ _Trou de l'Hydromel."_

"I don't drink that sludge, Maman, I hate the taste. Don't worry."

"May I come along?" asked Monique.

"Of course," said Marcel. "I have a bit of _Sans-Magie_ money upstairs, we can buy something at the patisserie!" he added joyfully. "Give me fifteen minutes. I want to wash up and dress in something decent."

Monique grinned at her aunt when he ran back upstairs. "I've never known him to be vain. I think he wants to ask Mademoiselle Adelaide for a date," she whispered.

Sabine nodded. "I approve. She seemed to be a very nice young lady...but her being _Sans-Magie_ makes it all the more dangerous."

…

Later that afternoon, Marcel and Monique, accompanied by the cat Lorette, were standing in the street right across from the building where Adelaide's parents lived.

"She's still inside? What's she doing?" asked Monique.

"She's still drinking tea, she's on her second éclair, and she's listening to her mother and sister talk," Marcel said, glancing back in Sabine's Magic Mirror and then putting it back in his pocket.

"What are you waiting for, Marcel?" Monique playfully elbowed him. "Go knock on the door. Take Adelaide's kitty with you. Quit being shy."

He fidgeted with the Mirror, slapping the face of it repeatedly with his left palm. "_No_...it's not the right moment. I'm not…"

"Why are you nervous?"

"I'm waiting for...for them to be done with their tea and cookies. I don't want to interrupt her with her mother and sister. They're talking." He kept glancing in the Mirror, then back at other random people nearby.

"I feel like an idiot staring in this Mirror too long. You're a girl, I should have _you_ look into it instead," he told Monique, giving her the Mirror. "_Sans-Magie _men don't spend all their time staring at themselves in mirrors."

A squeak of wheels sounded loudly as a cab carriage slowed down near where they stood.

"Hey! It's _you_! I know you!" said a man's booming baritone voice.

Marcel jumped in shock, turning to see a man driving the cab carriage. He was relieved to see that it was no wizard.

Instead, it was that proud, big, dramatic-speaking man who'd been the subject of the 'hearing' back in Prince Adam's castle. The one who loved Adelaide's sister Emilie. The man who'd been accused of shooting the Prince.

How he ended up back here- apparently doing a job Marcel used to do- was beyond him.

"_What are you doing?"_ Gaston demanded.

"Monsieur," Marcel greeted. "I'm glad to see you're...out of the dungeon."

"I thought you were in _prison?_" the man said bluntly. He saw the young teenage girl standing near Marcel holding a fancy mirror, and his expression softened.

"Bonjour, little Mademoiselle."

"Good day," said Monique, trying to stifle a giggle. She was thinking of Adelaide's 'John Smith' story that she'd told her about, and how the Ministry officers fell for it.

"Monsieur, I was able to get out of prison, just like you," said Marcel. "Now we have a lot more in common than we used to, don't you think?"

Gaston scowled. "But you're a warlock! Are you still after Emilie's sister?"

"_After_ her? I, well, I was going to return her cat to her. It's been a pattern ever since I met Adelaide." He laughed a little, hoping to defuse the situation. "Adelaide always loses her cat. And I bring her back. Do you remember the carriage trip? I imagine that hasn't changed, Monsieur."

Gaston's scowl softened, the fellow had a point. "You know she's been sick with grief over you. I think she was in love with you."

"_What_?" His heart leapt with hope. "I never thought-" he glanced at Monique awkwardly, the girl was grinning- "I never thought she had strong feelings like that. Not for _me_, a mere carriage driver-"

"What's wrong with being a _mere_ carriage driver?" Gaston said with a hint of ire.

"_Nothing_!" The wizard was digging himself into a hole again. "Have you ever considered a career as a...police detective or officer? You have the kind of intimidating manner that would be good for such a thing."

"I _am_ intimidating," Gaston said, throwing back his shoulders. "I was about to pick Emilie up. She's my _wife_ now."

"Congratulations!" said Marcel, giddily. "Everything worked out for you, then?"

"Yes, it worked out well. Now that you mention it, I would not mind trying to be an officer of the law. The ones here seem incompetent. They don't even know how to find a house if you give them an _address!_"

"Maybe the address was wrong?"

Gaston looked at the other man with scrutiny. "Why is it that you people look so _normal_? Just like that woman Agathe. She could make herself look like a common old sack-of-flour _grand-mère_ when I knew her. Can you do some magic for me right now?"

"No, Monsieur. I won't do it just for show. I'll use magic only when I _decide_ to use it," Marcel added politely.

"It's still a _freak_ thing to do!" said Gaston. "And I don't think it's safe for Adelaide to associate with the likes of your kind of people."

"Well, I haven't seen her for over a month. I only want to return her lost cat. Not propose to her."

Gaston nodded and rubbed his chin, his irritation calming. "Just don't go waving any wands around and doing that-" he gestured with a wave of his hand- "_stuff_. Can the little girl do it?" he asked, glancing at Monique.

"I can only do it in school, in lessons," she said, still hugging the golden cat.

"_Good God!_ There's a witch and warlock _school_?" Gaston exclaimed. "Could I learn to do it? That Agathe woman said people are born with it. But can one, eh- bend the _rules_?"

"No," Marcel said with a slight laugh, shaking his head. "Either you're born with it, or not. A person can't choose. And some of us wish we...never mind."

"So, Monsieur...I can't recall your name," Gaston said, sidling up to the other man and throwing an arm around his shoulder. "_Why_ are we wasting time standing around? Let's go meet up with the ladies, and both of you can return Addie's cat."

"I'm Marcel Clement, and I'm actually-" He held back from stepping forward.

"Are you _afraid _or something? As an all-powerful _sorcerer_? I'd even suspect you could kill a man with magic. Can you?"

"Can you please stop _talking _about it-" Marcel said uncomfortably, while two ladies walked across the street from them. For all he knew, they could be enchantresses from _Le Ministère._

"Come with me!" Gaston demanded, his arm still thrown around the other man as he urged him to the door. Monique followed, passing Lorette up to Marcel for him to hold.

"You look good with a cat. Women like furry animals just as much as flowers," said Gaston. "She'll be very impressed."

"Thank you," Marcel said with a burst of self confidence. Gaston glanced at the window of the building while smoothing back his raven hair, and Marcel realized he was checking his own reflection.

"I have a mirror in my pocket if you want to use-" he started to say before the door opened. It was Adelaide.

"Gaston! I thought you- _oh_!" Her hand clapped over her mouth, stifling a scream.

"Adelaide- remember me?" Marcel said, clutching the kitten, feeling a rush of apprehension mixed with joy.

"Marcel? Is it really _you?_"

"It's me. And, um, you left your cat at my mother's-"

"_Oh_ _Mon Dieu_!" Adelaide cried. "Madame Sabine is your mother! I _know!_ She _did_ it? She rescued you?"

"Yes-"

"I was _there_! At her home! And Gaston was there, too! And we _both _helped defeat Sauvageon! And you found Lorette!" Her eyes teared with happiness. "I think I'm _dreaming_!"

"You can hug me to prove I'm real," Marcel said, overjoyed. Adelaide was just the way he remembered- her hazel eyes, brown curls, sweet smile, and voice that went up several octaves when she was excited.

Adelaide reached out to take the cat, letting Lorette cling to her shoulder while she embraced Marcel tightly- crying with absolute relief.

Emilie came to the door, also overjoyed to see the wizard over his ordeal. They all rejoiced- hugging each other right there, on the building's front porch. The two sisters and Gaston listened as Marcel recounted the whole story. Monique listened as well, feeling proud to be part of such a heroic Enchanted family.

...


	14. The Broomstick and the Ultimatum

Chapter 14- The Broomstick and the Ultimatum

...

"So, _mon ami_," said Gaston with a playful smirk directed at Marcel, "What are you going to _do_ now that you're free?"

Marcel looked to Adelaide, who gav_e_ him a joyous and reassuring smile. "Get my Enchanted horses back," he replied. "Drive a carriage again. Maybe even play _Boule de Plume _for fun if I can find people to play it with."

"Feather Ball?" Gaston asked with a confused raise of an eyebrow. "Is that a game?"

"Greatest sport in the Enchanted World! I used to play on a professional team. French wizards call it _Boule de Plume, _and other nationalities have their own terms for it," Marcel said, and Adelaide noticed how the man's face seemed to light up when talking about his passion.

"Well, then! _Good,_" said Gaston, giving Marcel a rather condescending smile and nod. Adelaide could tell that Gaston thought a sport with a name like 'Feather Ball' was a sport for wimps. "Emilie dear! Let's go home and relax," Gaston told his wife. "Monsieur, it was great to see you again."

"It was good to see you again, Gaston and Emilie! Congratulations on your marriage!" Marcel said as he shook the other man's hand. Emilie hugged Marcel once more, and she took Gaston's hand as they went back to his cab carriage. They left with a squeak of reins and clopping hooves. Adelaide also had the feeling that Gaston and Emilie were not too fond of discussion of any mysterious dangers of the Enchanted world. Adelaide no longer cared about his or her sister's opinions on it.

"I'd like to see a _Boule de Plume_ game being played, or even try it out myself," she said once the three were alone again.

Monique shook her head. "Mademoiselle Adelaide, you'd fall to the earth from the sky and be killed in less than five minutes if _you_ tried to play _Boule de Plume_," she said with a sober look, while Marcel burst into laughter at his little cousin's bluntness.

"She's right, you know," he told her.

"It's that dangerous, is it?" Adelaide asked. "I don't know anything about how the brooms work. A magical broom wouldn't even _lift_ if I sat on it, isn't that right? Doesn't it only work for wizards?"

"You're right. They only work for us," Marcel said, pleased by her eagerness to learn. "Forgive Monique and I for being so cheeky to you. No, you _wouldn't_ be able to make a broom fly by your own will. An Enchanted broom does whatever _we_ will it to do. It's Enchanter-controlled. So if you sat on a broom, Adelaide, and I commanded it to fly, you'd certainly get a ride up in the air. I have one of my old brooms at my mother's place. I'll go back and get it."

"W-what?" Adelaide stammered.

"You're flying one today. I'll let you ride on mine, to the best of your ability."

Adelaide's mouth gaped open. "Wait, are you _sure_ about this?"

"Absolutely sure. Remember our last talk together?" He grinned at her. "Bring your dear cat home, and then come walk back with me, Adelaide. Monique, we ought to get you home, too."

He began to leave Adelaide's parents' home and head down the street with Monique following. Adelaide glanced over at her apartment window for a moment, thinking she should tell her mother what she was up to- but decided otherwise. She carried Lorette with her while she followed her two Magical friends.

When they arrived at the space between the two buildings 1343 and 1345, Monique reached her hand out and knocked into the air. Marcel's mother Sabine appeared.

"Hello, Mademoiselle, it is good to see you!" Sabine told Adelaide. "Please forgive me, but I've charmed our home so that only family members may enter."

"Of course. I understand," said Adelaide. "It's what you need to do to be safe."

"I'll be back in just one moment!" Marcel said apologetically as he took Monique in to her aunt. Within a minute, he popped back out of the space carrying a smooth, wooden-handled broom. Instead of having a bundle of straw at the end for sweeping, the broom's head appeared to be made of soft, dark-hued bristles that looked more like that of a large paintbrush. "This one has always been my favorite!"

"How high does it usually take you?" Adelaide asked.

"Higher than the church steeples of Paris," Marcel replied, hoisting the six-foot-long broom over his shoulder. They passed a few people on the streets, who paid no attention to them. Marcel was assumed to be a common chimney sweep in their eyes, Adelaide guessed. When one was not thinking of the existence of magic and wizards, one did not see them- a benefit to all Enchanted folk who lived and existed among the unsuspecting.

"Would you mind taking a walk to the park with me? I know a place that makes a good takeoff spot," he suggested.

"I wouldn't mind at all, but could I just watch you try it out first?" Adelaide said nervously.

"If you'd like. Whatever makes you feel comfortable," Marcel said, reaching to grasp Adelaide's hand as if to hurry her to his destination. "Come on!"

She took his hand in hers- her heart soaring from the gesture and his warm touch- but overcome with anxious thoughts at the same time. If he were to attempt a broom flight above Paris in plain sight, wouldn't dozens of _Sans-Magies_ see him? Or would he be tracked down by the kinds of wizards who imprisoned him in the first place?

They reached the tree-and-garden filled park, the same place where Marcel first gave Lorette to Adelaide as a tiny kitten. He led her to a thicket of rust-colored fern plants and leafy trees, which dropped their seeds on their heads while they jostled their way through. When they came out to a clearing, Adelaide found herself looking upon a wide, open meadow of mowed grass. She set Lorette down to play and run. The cat played in the grass, but instead of running off to get lost, she stayed close to Adelaide's and Marcel's feet, nuzzling the toe of his boot.

"What is this place?" Adelaide asked. "I've never been here before, and my sister and I have been to this park many times."

"It's secret," said Marcel. "This field is a stadium where the _Boule de Plume_ games in Paris are held. What do you see along the sides?"

"Lines of cedar trees," said Adelaide.

"A _Sans-Magie_ sees a grassy field bordered by cedar trees, but a wizard sees a stadium. Right now, I can see rows of bleachers where spectators sit, and the two tall goal posts, high above." Marcel pointed up to the things he was seeing, which confused Adelaide. "So many great memories here," he sighed with an air of sadness.

"It's unfair that I can't see what you're seeing."

"Adelaide," he said, fixing his sad gaze upon her. "You don't know how many times I've wished to give up all this..." He let his words trail.

She realized what he meant. That day with Sauvageon, when the man had taken him. Marcel had shouted to his former boss that he wished he could leave their society, with all the evil and corruption within it.

"Our society has just as many bad things, too," Adelaide countered. "It isn't all peace and sunshine for us, either."

"You're right, I guess," Marcel said. "There was the war Gaston talked about fighting in. _Sans-Magies_ can live in such terrible poverty. I've seen starving families on the streets of Paris, but I've never heard of an Enchanted family starving from lack of money. They were starving me in the prison. It felt terrible."

"What?" said Adelaide, shocked. "Why did they do that to you?"

"He...the _leader,_ he gave an order," Marcel said quietly, seeming hesitant to say Bertrand's name out loud. "Anyone in that prison who had a _Sans-Magie_ in their close family was to be denied food. Thankfully, I only suffered five days when my mother and Aloysius came to rescue me."

"That's barbaric!" Adelaide exclaimed. "Please be careful, Marcel, so those monsters don't find you again. Where is Sauvageon now?"

"He's down in prison. Aloysius, and my mother fought him. Along with a third wizard who was with them-"

"Toulouse was his name. I met him," Adelaide interrupted.

"Yes. The three of them were able to outwit and gang up on Sauvageon when they arrived in the prison. My mother told me that Aloysius had another wand hidden beneath the wig on his head. Sauvageon was fooled because of course he thought my mother was Roux! So they battled him three against one, Aloysius and Maman both using wands. They managed to weaken him with curses and throw him in a glass cell."

"_Yes!_" Adelaide exclaimed in triumph. "He got what was coming to him!"

"I do feel sorry for him. The prison has erupted into chaos down there, according to the last Magical newspaper I read. There were more breakouts besides just ours."

"That's good, though, isn't it?" said Adelaide. "People were imprisoned unfairly."

"Well, it's more complicated than that," said Marcel. "Only in recent times have good people been thrown down there. During Ber- the _leader's_ reign. He only took power earlier this year. Before that it was a prison to put away Dark Enchanters who did evil. Who knows the kind of people who were in there from long ago, who could be free and on the streets again."

"None of them could be as evil as Sauvageon or your Minister, though." Adelaide opined.

Marcel shrugged. "I don't know. The newspaper was biased on their side. It made a big deal about the four 'vicious' werewolves who escaped. But that doesn't worry me, because one of the werewolves was my friend."

"A werewolf is your friend?"

Marcel nodded. "Yes. Even though he almost killed me, and I almost…" He let his words trail.

"You almost _what_?" said Adelaide.

"I almost...killed him. But he lived. And we're still friends." Marcel confessed. "It's a long story and I'll tell you more later-"

"I can't believe this. _How_ did you almost kill him?" Adelaide's cheerful manner from before had faded.

"Adelaide, I _don't _want to talk about it," he said, gripping his broom handle and resting his forehead against it, eyes closed with stress.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up something painful. But _you're_ the one who brought it up. If you want to talk about it to me, you can." She reached out to touch his hands clutching the broom handle. He took one hand off his broomstick to clasp her hand for a moment before pulling it away, a simple gesture of friendship. He clutched the broom handle and started to spin it and play with it in a fidgeting manner, eyes fixed on the ground. Lorette scampered to the broom head and began to bat it with her paw.

"Thank you for caring, Adelaide," Marcel said solemnly, after spinning the broom several times and watching the cat play. "And thank you for not forgetting me."

Adelaide gave a little fond laugh. "How _could_ I forget you? After what you did for Lorette?"

"Well you're right," Marcel said, a smile of humor playing on his lips again. "It was probably the best 'Introduction to Magic 101' lesson that anyone could learn."

"That's not the only reason," she replied.

"There was _also_ the way I helped Gaston make his appeal to Prince Adam and Belle. Putting his image on a giant screen in the castle library? I ought to have Gaston's lifelong devotion for doing that, don't you think?"

She laughed merrily, now that their conversation had gone light again. "True, but Gaston has a love-hate relationship with Enchanteds, because of what Agathe put him through. Even though she saved his life. I think he wants to put the whole thing behind him. Pretend it never happened, and live his life on a clean slate with his pride intact."

"That's what I sensed about Gaston. He's an interesting character." Marcel opined. "Agathe must have seen something in him, to do what she did. I don't get it! But then, she showed such caring for _me_ while I hated her. I let her _know_ I hated her." He laughed a bit at his former folly. "She did nothing but care for me when we were in that prison together. I need to respect that."

"I'm glad you were able to stop your animosity towards Agathe, Marcel. It shows your character," said Adelaide.

"Thank you," Marcel said sheepishly. He gave the broom another spin to to entertain Lorette, whose tail swayed slowly in a 'hunting' stance before she pounced on it.

"Speaking of Agathe, I wonder where Aloysius is. I haven't heard from him since he disappeared with your mother," said Adelaide.

"I know where he is. I peeked at my Maman's mirror while I was holding it."

"Are they all right? Are they safe?"

"Yes, they're safe. Aloysius has to be safe because he's with Agathe. I trust her and her ability. Even though a few months ago, I would've never believed I'd say that about her." Marcel shook his head before fixing Adelaide with an intense gaze. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Adelaide said eagerly.

"Would you still be as fond of me if I never did those Magical things in front of you? If you never learned about my powers?"

"Marcel, of course I would! You left quite an impression on me. And I don't mean your powers." Her cheeks began to warm and flush, for their lively conversation had just shifted from Agathe and Gaston to Adelaide herself, and how she felt about him.

"What was your favorite thing you did with me before you found out about my magic?" he asked casually, fiddling with the broom handle and looking down at the cat. "Forgive me, but I _need_ to know. It means so much."

"My favorite thing I did with you? I think it was when I kept you company on the coach ride while you drove. And that was when I thought you were just a coachman, nothing else. It's the truth."

"So I didn't need powers to impress you?"

"_No!_ Not at all! You impressed me just by...being _you_."

"Adelaide." Marcel said her name like a sigh. He let go of the broom, letting it drop to the grass so Lorette could claw at it. He moved to Adelaide and pulled her into a warm embrace. She welcomed it, resting her cheek against his chest.

"I have my reasons why I decided to bring you out here to this field. I didn't want to tell you right away," he mumbled quietly in her hair.

Adelaide was too overjoyed in his arms to detect his somber tone.

"So, um...am I getting out of a dangerous broom flying lesson?" she asked, wrapping her arms behind his back. He was such a slim man, though a head taller than her. Hugging him was almost like embracing a broomstick, but she didn't care.

"No, you're still riding my broom soon," he replied. "I can't believe that you met my mother. I was shocked at the coincidence. How did you meet her?"

"Through Aloysius," she admitted. "I got involved way too much with Aloysius and the Enchanted world, more than I should have. I guess I...I wanted to cling to your world. Because it was my only link to you."

He smoothed a windblown curl of her hair with his thumb, and continued to comb through her hair with his fingers, his other arm gripping her around her waist. Adelaide's world exploded with joy and content at his touch. It seemed the most natural and intimate gesture of 'I love you' that she could imagine, almost equal to a kiss.

"I thought about you in prison. All the time," he mumbled quietly, fingers tangling in her curls.

"I hoped you were feeling my thoughts about you. They were quite strong," Adelaide confessed, her voice cracking from happy tears.

She sighed a long happy, contented sigh. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Adelaide luxuriated in Marcel's hug, leaning her cheek against the soft fabric of his grey suede vest. Feeling cared for and comforted, she ran a finger over one of the brass buttons. The button had a butterfly motif engraved in it.

"The buttons on your vest have butterflies on them," she said cozily, breaking the lull. "Monique and your mother had things with butterflies too. Is it a family symbol?"

He gave a fond little laugh. "Actually, it has to do with my school. This vest was part of my old school uniform. Adelaide, I want so much to tell you all the stories about growing up in a magical Académie. It the most beautiful school you could imagine."

"Please, _do_ tell me about it!" she cried in joy, reaching to touch his cheek with her palm. She so hoped that he would take this moment to kiss her, yet didn't want to appear too eager. The man had just suffered greatly.

"It was seven years of my life, so I guess I'd have to tell you just the highlights," he told her with a light laugh. "The Académie was in a castle almost the size of Prince Adam's. We traveled back and forth from school to home by flying carriages."

"Lessons must have been exciting, I'm sure."

"Not always," he said, giving her waist and hips an affectionate squeeze and making her giggle. "Magic school is still just like any school. I had to study for hours and read so many dry and dull books, and my mind would go blank when I took tests. Didn't help when one professor of mine would disappear and reappear in different parts of the room while we were taking our exams. Looking back, I think that was child abuse."

"I agree, that would make me uneasy."

"I managed to graduate, I suppose that was magic in itself," he said in self-deprecating humor.

Adelaide laughed softly. "You're too modest. I witnessed your skills that day with Sauvageon. I'm guessing you're more a fighter than a scholar?"

"I can be a fighter, yes. But I strive to be a gentleman, and only fight when it's needed."

"That's a noble trait." Adelaide said, her heart pounding while hoping he would be giving her that first kiss any second now. She trembled in anticipation, staring at his full lips accented with his jet-black mustache and trimmed beard. In this grassy field with a cool blue sky above them, there couldn't be a better moment than right then.

Instead, Marcel suddenly glanced up from her, towards the sky.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I guess it was just a bird flying. Not a threat."

"Did you think it was another wizard on a broom?"

"We're out of our safe zone. In public with _Sans-Magies _all around us," he said with a hint of nerves. "I'm limited in places I can go, but sick of being holed up at my mother's, and..."

He pulled slightly away from Adelaide's body, but kept a firm and loving hand on the curve of her back. "I have to ask you something." His gaze was intense and serious.

"What?"

"Remember I just told Gaston I wanted to go get my two horses back. They're at Prince Adam and Belle's castle. How'd you like to come with me? Right _now_?"

"Right now?"

"Yes. We'll fly there. Using that." He indicated the broom, which lay in the grass with Lorette resting on its soft-bristled head.

Adelaide gave a squeal of fear. "Don't you know how far away that is?"

"Yes, I drove the distance, if you recall," he said with a chuckle. "But with a broom, it will only take us less than an hour! Or _half_ an hour if you want me to be speedy."

"Marcel, I…"

He let go of her, which sorrowed her a bit, and walked over to pick up his broom lying in the grass, scooping Lorette the cat into his other arm. He studied the sky for a moment. "East is this way."

"Shouldn't we tell our families before we go running off? They'll be worried about us. Your mother ought to know."

"Are we children, or adults?" Marcel asked her with a bit of exasperation.

"Adults?"

"There's your answer! My mother has her Mirror back. If she knows I'm going to where my sister lives, that should calm her. That castle is connected to Agathe. She's put all kinds of enchantments on that area. She calls it her home. And guess what? When I snuck a look in my Maman's Mirror earlier today, I found out that Agathe happens to be there with Aloysius!"

"Aloysius went to the castle?"

"Yes. They are hiding out on the castle grounds in some cottage together. Don't you want to reunite with him?" Marcel pressed.

"Well...sure, I guess…"

"Adelaide, if you want to be part of our world, you're either in or you're out!" Marcel admonished her, his speech frantic and rapid. "There's no riding the fence here!"

She felt scared and shocked at the sudden turn in Marcel's mood. "But…"

"Look, if you want to be with me- and heaven knows I want to be with you, because damn it, I love you more than any other woman I've ever known- you need to _not_ be scared and join me!" he shouted.

"Marcel, I-"

"I'm not going to lie to you, _petit._ There is mortal danger involved if you want to be with me. We could even marry, but that would mean evading _Le Ministère'_s detection and doing a lot of running around, living like nomads. I'm _sorry._" His eyes glistened with tears as he tried to catch his breath after the tirade of words.

Adelaide had to slowly process in her heart what Marcel just expressed to her. An actual declaration of love, a frank offer of marriage- all with strings attached.

She put her hands over her face and tried to fight back tears. He seemed angry now, but it was a passionate anger, and Adelaide had never been the object of such passion her entire life. She loved him back, so very much. But _mortal danger? _

_"_Marcel, are you telling me that that the Minister has you on a kill list? And even _me,_ if we were together?"

"Are you _in,_ or are you _out_?" Marcel demanded, cradling Lorette in his left arm. He had his broomstick clutched in his right hand, letting it stand beside him just like a devoted farmer with a tilling rake.

...

_A.N.- I am sorry I haven't updated in forever. I've had some kind of block when it came to this story, so I had to put it on the back burner for a while. I'm going to finish it. Thanks for your patience. :)_


	15. Above The Clouds

Chapter 15- Above the Clouds

…

Adelaide stared blankly for a moment at this man, the one who made her heart flutter with his mere touch. He held a broom set to travel for hundreds of miles in less than one hour. He was promising her adventure, true passionate love, and a chance to escape the dull, tedious life of a spinster maid.

On the other hand, a group of evil wizards were on the hunt for Marcel and she, too, risked danger. She would be taking off without informing Emilie or her parents.

Her heart won over logic. Adelaide decided she wanted nothing else than to stay with him- until whatever end may be.

"I'm in," she declared.

Marcel's gaze was fierce and fiery. "I need you, Adelaide."

He took a few steps toward her, his hands quite full with the cat and the broom. Adelaide quickly closed the space between them and put her hands on his shoulders, standing on her tiptoes to get close to his face, close enough to see all the tiny red vessels of hardship and strain etched over the whites of his brown eyes.

She didn't plan what she was about to say. It seemed too forward, too ridiculous, but she said it anyway.

"Kiss me, my brave Warlock."

"Of course," he replied in a whisper, lowering his head until his lips found hers.

Adelaide pressed against his mouth with hunger, wanting more and more. The feeling with this man, this moment, was better than the taste of hot honey-dripped tea, or creamed eclairs. She found herself clutching his shoulders, letting her mouth open just a little, making a sound of pure pleasure in her throat when she felt his tongue playing with hers.

Lorette the cat squirmed and meowed in Marcel's grip, wedged between their bodies, so they broke for only a moment. He hoisted the cat up on his shoulder in one swift move and they rejoined, their kisses increasingly fierce, long and hard, as if time was insignificant.

But time was not insignificant, and Marcel was the first to realize that as he finally broke their third, long kiss. "Adelaide," he breathed with his lips glistening. "There'll be more of that later. I promise."

Her cheeks were on fire, she tried to reclaim her breath. "That was...wonderful. As nervous as I am, I'll risk your terrifying broom ride if there's more of that!"

He grinned proudly. "_Good,_" he said, in a manner that reminded her of Gaston. "And next time, I _won't _have my hands full." He sounded playful and cheeky, and her heart did a flip. He had never been this forward before the prison ordeal.

Marcel took a few steps away from Adelaide and let his broom float horizontally to the ground. He set Lorette upon the front end of the broomstick handle, petting the cat with a gentle touch. The cat clung to it with her paws, and then went completely motionless.

"What did you just do to Lorette?"

"I put a charm on her to sedate her. Something I learned in my Creature Care classes. And a sticking charm."

"So she will be safe?"

"_Oui_, Adelaide. Your cat trusts me, we have an animal-human bond. An Enchanted bond."

"Of course," Adelaide replied. "You were her savior."

He put the broomstick in a riding position between his knees. After tapping his boot heel a few times in the grass, the broom took off and rose several feet from the ground. Lorette stayed on the broom, as if glued to it.

"Don't worry, I'm just getting used to the feel of flying. It's been months!" he called down to her, his boots dangling in the air. He flew in reverse. "Do you like my backwards move? I mastered it in my _Boule de Plume_ days!"

"It looks amazing to see you up there!" she exclaimed. "I've never seen anything like it, other than in picture books about 'All Hallows' Eve.'"

"That's my favorite holiday second to Christmas!" Marcel called down to her, circling the broom just for fun and testing the charms he put on Lorette. He controlled the broom to slowly float back down to her level.

"Have a seat in front. Between me and Lorette. She will stay on, I assure you."

Awkwardly, Adelaide lifted her right leg, her long dress skirt, and double petticoats to situate herself on the broomstick handle. She took a few moments to fix her clothes before holding on, and her heart warmed when she felt Marcel's arms grasping her around her middle. He placed his hands over hers, clutching the slightly curved handle together. It wasn't too much different than a pony riding lesson she'd had with her father as a child, she thought.

When they lifted off, the ground leaving her feet along with a frightening feeling of soaring upward at an angle, she screamed, holding tight to the smooth handle with Marcel's warm hands covering hers.

"I've got you!" he said. Lorette remained secured to the broomstick, a fat ball of golden fluff without a care in the world.

Within seconds, they were as high as an eagle's flight. "Marcel, _please!_" she screamed again when it tipped to the left. "Not too wild!" Her stomach lurched whenever he steered, and she had to to close her eyes as to not want to throw up. Her ears popped painfully, and her hearing was dulled to the point she couldn't hear her own screams. They were ascending much too far above the earth. The air became as cold as midwinter.

"Please! It's _freezing_ up here!" she cried, teeth chattering. When she opened her eyes, she could not see any buildings of Paris below them, only the forests- a carpet of thousands of miniscule trees colored with early autumn hues. They entered a thick white fog, and a cold, wet feeling came over her as they went through clouds. She closed her eyes against the frigid wind and shivered. Poor Lorette's fur was wet. This was miserable.

"I don't like this at all! Can we _please_ go lower?" Adelaide's face was going to freeze, and she wasn't dressed for winter weather. She found it harder to breathe as well, a headache coming on which added more pain to her ordeal with a frozen, windburned face. If this continued for one more minute, she would lose her strength to hold on, and fall.

"I'm so, so sorry! I forgot you couldn't handle the altitude and temperature," Marcel apologized, agonized more from her suffering than any of his own. "I'll do a warming spell and make a bubble of air! I can try to do it wandless-"

He pulled one hand from hers- she screamed again at the loss of his grip- and waved it in an arc, speaking several strange, foreign words. To her great relief, warmth came over her body and she could breathe again. She saw that Lorette's fur had dried.

Along with the warmth, she felt his arms settling back to embrace her around the middle from behind.

"Oh, thank you! I feel much better!" Her ears had also cleared, and she could hear again.

"We're in cruising altitude now. You can open your eyes and look down if you'd like."

"_Mon Dieu_!" Adelaide cried out. They were above the clouds, which looked much like gentle white mountains of snow beneath them. Before them was a sea of bright blue sky.

They were soaring high above France, the sun at their backs, a rare pair of humans and a cat with the unnatural ability to soar higher than birds. It was now warm, pleasant, and for some reason it felt like Marcel was flying the broom much slower. There was no longer a rushing, frigid wind.

"I pray we don't fall!"

"We won't. I'm a magic man, remember? I will not let you fall!"

"I'll still be glad when we reach where we're going! How long will it take?" she asked.

"Not long, my love. Not long. You are such a brave woman, _ma petite._" He squeezed her hand. "I love you so much, and I'm glad you're here."

His loving words encouraged her. "I'm glad I decided to come with you. But are you sure Lorette is all right? What if she died of fright?" Adelade said with concern.

Now that the flight was easy, Adelaide pulled her right hand free and reached to touch her cat. She felt warm, and there was a pulse on her plump furry side. "She's alive."

"She's asleep," Marcel said. "I'm the Cat Whisperer, remember?"

Adelaide laughed nervously. "I remember. Are you sure the castle is a safe place to go?"

"Yes, it is, and I needed to leave Paris today." Marcel said with growing stress. "Can I tell you why? What I found out for certain?"

"What?"

"While I was in my mother's house earlier, to fetch this broom, a letter flew out of Maman's fireplace. Birds find their ways to deliver letters, I'll explain later. Maman opened the letter and showed it to Monique and me. It was from _Le Ministère,_ saying she was harboring an escaped convict and that I would be executed on sight-"

"No!" Adelaide cried out.

"And they threatened her. My mother is wanted for her crime of impersonating Roux," Marcel continued. "I promised her I would leave, and I told her to summon my Uncle Edouard in London for help. He and my Aunt Celeste can come pick Maman and Monique up, and take them to London to stay with them. I hated to leave them both crying like that. When I came back outside to you, I was trying to stay cheerful-"

"I hope they can get help and leave!" Adelaide glanced around at the vast sky, terrified a member of the cruel Enchanted government would show up on a broom of his own, right then.

"She _will_ get help, I said! My Uncle Edouard- Monique's father, put a...Summons Charm on his name before he left last," Marcel explained, his breathing labored from stress. "All she needs to do is speak his full name, and he can hear her...from long distance, and come back to get them."

Adelaide squeezed his hand on the broom handle while he spoke about these frightening developments. "Poor Monique, I'm worried about her too. She's so young." Adelaide said.

"They've been wanting to take Monique with them and have the family together, but the spoiled child threw such a fit about not wanting to switch schools earlier this summer," he said. "Her wishes are not ruling the family anymore. She's _going _to England."

"I _don't_ think Monique's spoiled, Marcel," Adelaide countered gently. "She's just afraid of change and leaving everything behind. Like I am."

"Perhaps you're right," he said quietly. "It's just that Monique is having an easier and more coddled childhood than mine was, I've been a little envious."

"I thought you said you went to school in an elegant Enchanted castle! Sounds like _privilege_ to me!" Adelaide argued.

"It was a boarding school, Adelaide. No cost to my mother, so it _was_ a privilege."

"Only wealthy _Sans-Magies_ can afford boarding school."

"But I had to live away from home nine months of the year, starting from age eleven. And when I was home, my mother was going through a lot. She left our father, for one, and had to fend for Plumette and I alone until my aunt and uncle took us in."

"I'm sorry. Did you know your father? Did he care for you?"

"Barely," Marcel said with a sad tone. "He was proud that I was born Enchanted, but Maman said he called Plumette a 'disgrace,' and he even told Maman he was tricked into marrying her, not knowing she was half _Sans-Magie_. I spent one summer with him at age fourteen, and by then I was old enough to realize how hateful he was. My father was actually an old friend and crony of...the Minister."

"I'm sorry," said Adelaide. "Is he still alive?"

"No. But...anyway, I promise to find a way you can see your sister and parents again," said Marcel, changing the subject. "And...I'm sorry for forcing you into this."

"I forgive you. You're being honest, Marcel. I _had_ to know about the dangers. And I love you, so I'm in. That's that," she declared.

"Adelaide," he whispered into her hair, a crack of tearfulness in his voice when he spoke her name. Her heart melted when he gave the top of her head a soft kiss. "Everything I went through was worth it, finding you."

"_Merci,_" she said in a blissful sigh. She almost wanted to pinch herself, because this could not be real. The line between the cloud-covered earth and blue sky before them made a slight curve, adding to the surrealness of it all. She'd heard that the world was ball-shaped. They were so fantastically, unbelievably high above the ground, that it could be seen as a fact.

"I promise we won't be in peril at Prince Adam's castle. We _will_ be with Agathe and Aloysius," he reassured her. "And I need to help protect my sister. She's part of my family, so she could be targeted...maybe, I don't know."

"I'll be glad to see them again. Do you realize we didn't pack, though? I won't have a thing to wear soon!" Adelaide realized.

"Don't wear anything," Marcel replied. Adelaide's cheeks warmed, and she tried to hold back a laugh.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you. I'll need to wear something else besides this dress for the next days and weeks."

"We'll worry about clothes and places to sleep later."

"How can you _not _worry about those things?"

"Prison does that to a person, my love." Marcel said. Adelaide felt him place yet another gentle kiss on the top of her head. "Thank you for being as forgiving as you are beautiful."

She _felt_ beautiful, and very loved, floating across the sky with ankles crossed in midair. Her bottom and hands were sore from clinging to the narrow wooden broom, and she reclined back against her new beau's solid and lean form to get more comfortable. She craned her neck around to find his face. He leaned forward to kiss her lips. It felt like heaven.

"You're the second woman to take a broom ride with me," he said after they broke the kiss.

"Who was the first?"

"Plumette." His beloved sister, of course.

"She must have liked that!" Adelaide said.

"Lumiere was against it, he was worried she would get hurt. This was just a few months after the curse broke- after our memories of Plumette returned- when Maman and I visited them. I took her up to the highest castle turret and back down, only a few minutes. I was breaking Magical law even then. And in the days afterward, I spied for Sauvageon on the hunt for lawbreakers. I was a terrible hypocrite."

She frowned at the mention of Sauvageon, and changed the subject. "Am I the first woman you've kissed on a broom?"

"Yes. And you're the first I've kissed like...well, um, like _that._ The first to turn my heart inside out," he admitted.

"I'm sure you had many old girlfriends and lovers," she said, her curiosity burning though she didn't want to know.

"Not really. I was a bit hurt by some Enchanted girls," Marcel replied, not giving any more details.

"I'm sorry. Their loss. Did you know I turned down a marriage proposal last spring? Before I met you?"

"No! The poor man. You broke his heart?"

"Hardly, no. It was a weak proposal. He didn't love me. He was in love with a Prince," Adelaide said bluntly.

"Don't you mean a Prin-_cess_?"

"No. I mean an actual, tall, handsome, golden-haired Prince. Prince Adam's cousin Louis Jean-Baptiste. Both men are pompous twits and it makes sense now." She laughed a little. "Except for the problem that...a noble Marquis' daughter I used to serve is engaged to marry Prince Louis. Lady Evangeline. I feel sorry for her, because it won't be a union of love."

"_Really?_ Oh...well, I see. All right," Marcel said fumblingly, unconcerned about what went on with other _Sans-Magie_ French royals. "A school professor of mine was of that proclivity. At least that was the rumor. That _reminds_ me!" Marcel exclaimed. "My werewolf friend! He, um...he expressed some, well, odd sentiments toward me all the time. It annoyed the living hell out of me, but I got used to it. I wonder what Robert's doing now? I hope he's safe."

"Odd sentiments? Meaning he 'liked' you...the same way I do? What made you think...that?" Adelaide asked with a little laugh.

Marcel laughed as well. "You would have to meet Robert. As soon as he opens his mouth and you hear the kind of language he uses towards me, you just know. But the funny thing is, he wants a _woman _more than he wants a man."

"Did you see him change into a wolf whenever the moon was full?" Adelaide asked. "Wait- was _that _why he tried to kill you?"

"Yes. I was terrified. So I fought back. If it wasn't for Agathe, that poor man would be dead. He wasn't a bad person. Bitten by a wolf while he was at the seashore looking for mermaids. He was very talkative about his life." Marcel sighed with worry for the other man. "He must be on the list of those to be executed by sight, because he was in our jailbreak."

"I know you're so worried about everyone, Marcel," Adelaide said soothingly, her hand clasping his.

"I can't help it_._ I worry myself sick, just like you. Are you...comfortable?"

"Kind of," she said. If she were honest, she would say her bottom hurt and parts of her had lost circulation from not having a soft seat. Her face was still windburnt from the earlier cold, and her hands were sore from gripping the handle so tightly. She tried to squirm and shift.

"Adelaide, would you um...would you mind leaning forward on the broom a little? Closer to Lorette?"

"You don't _want_ me close to you?" Playfully, she scooted back even more so that her legs were pressed against his legs, her backside cradled between them. She was enjoying this, it felt scandalous. Yet, no one else was around to judge them, save a sedated cat. When they reached earth, Adelaide would go back to being the sweet, proper maid she always was.

Marcel laughed, the end of his laugh more like a groan. "Adelaide…"

"_What_? You're feeling too pokey and lumpy. I have to move." She shifted upon the broomstick in discomfort, feeling sore, tingly, and numb in unmentionable places from sitting on such a narrow piece of wood for nearly an hour.

"The truth is, parts of me are just as asleep as Lorette," she told him.

"Parts of me are too _awake_," Marcel mumbled under his breath.

"Really?" Adelaide giggled, blushing. "Isn't it a little early in our relationship for you to share such details?"

She turned around to try to catch his expression. He put the broom into a sudden, downward drop. Adelaide lunged forward with a startled scream.

"_Marcel! What are you doing?"_

"You're distracting me. I _have_ to land this broom in five minutes!"

"We're almost _there_?"

"We _are_ here!"

The broom made another swooping motion downward, a longer one this time. Adelaide's stomach jumped to her lungs; she screamed again.

"_Marcel!"_

"Serves you right for being a temptress."

They settled into a slower, gentle descent. The clouds were more sparse in the region of France they were now flying over. Below, they could see patterns of green and gold covering the earth- fields and meadows, tiny toy forests, and a winding blue river.

"Mon Dieu...this is a beautiful sight! I _love_ magic."

"Just magic?"

"And I love _you._"

"Are you ready to go down?" Marcel asked her determinedly. "I hope your stomach and ears can take it."

"Just go slow and gentle, Marcel."

"You'll be asking that of me again, someday. Or some _night_."

She gasped. "You are completely beyond naughty, my dear Warlock! Don't _think_ I didn't comprehend that!"

"I was hoping you would," he said in a clearly suggestive tone.

She laughed, unable to help it. Adelaide was not used to a man's ardent advances of _l'amour. _However, her beau seemed so very different now, and it was hard for Adelaide to adjust to this 'post-prison' Marcel. He'd returned with a side so wild, reckless, and blunt compared to the over-polite, sweet, reserved 'coachman' version of Marcel she remembered last spring.

She rather missed that version, though.

"Were you _always_ like this? Did you hide it from me?"

"Sorry. I'll try to remain a gentleman. It's just...I find it difficult to rein in my feelings for you."

She caught a note of chagrin and abashedness in his tone and felt comforted. The man still retained some of that boyish innocence.

The broom lurched again, and she screamed.

"Hang on! We're going down! This might be a bumpy ride!" Marcel shouted.

"_Oh, no!"_ Adelaide squealed.

His broom did a steep downward descent, and Adelaide's stomach seemed to fly up into her lungs. Her ears 'popped' once more. She clutched the broom handle for dear life, closing her eyes tight as Marcel steered. She felt as if she would topple off, with all the tipping to the right, then to the left.

"Are your eyes open?"

"No!" she screamed. The air was rushing in her face and whipping her hair, but there was a lack of frigid wind or freezing water drops this time. After a minute, it felt less perilous. She opened her eyes.

There were the turrets and walls of a fine, majestic white castle, nestled in green and gold hills and forests. To her left, she could see a church steeple and the tiny buildings of a village.

"There it is! And I can see the town!" she exclaimed.

"It's Villeneuve! Plumette and Lumiere love that place."

Adelaide's eye caught the flight of a large, greyish bird above the Prince's castle. It began to fly directly towards them, and within a moment, she gasped in horror.

It was not a bird at all- but another man on a broom.

...


	16. A Grave Mistake

Chapter 16- A Grave Mistake

...

_An enemy! _

Marcel immediately raised his hand for battle as the other wizard flew closer. The intruder had one hand on his broomstick and the other extended upward, fingers splayed. The other man held no wand, but that did not mean he couldn't perform a wandless attack.

Marcel had less than one second to decide which attack in his arsenal to use.

"_Petrifier!_" he screamed, throwing one arm out to hurl the curse. The golden beam soared from his fingertip and found its target- the man's heart.

He had chosen that over his signature move of the freezing curse. The bastard could just die from a plummet to the earth, for all Marcel cared. The man's bones could break, his blood splatter, instead of being frozen into an elegant ice statue which would fall to earth. That would be too clean an end for _Le __Ministère _swine.

Through the rush of wind in his ears, he barely heard Adelaide's screams of horror the second after he threw the curse...

"_Aloysius! NO!"_

"_What?_"

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The other wizard had flown close enough now, that both Marcel and Adelaide could see his face. The curse had already hit the man's chest and turned him Petrified. This was no enemy.

It was their dear friend Aloysius- his expression caught in a grimace of shock. His stiffened body separated from the broom and began to plummet to the ground, to the forest below.

It was one of the most horrific sights Marcel had ever seen, equal only to Robert's near-death back in the prison cell.

"_NO!" _he cried in shock and horror.

"_What did you do?" _Adelaide screamed, sobbing so hard she was almost slipping off the broomstick herself.

"_Hold on to the damn broom!"_ Marcel yelled sharply at her, his mind focused only on bringing her to solid safe ground and then taking off again. "I'm landing _now!"_

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Adelaide sobbed, but she held on tight as he commanded her. She had no choice, if she wanted to survive this.

Adrenaline kicked in and surged through Marcel as he steered the broom into a sharp descent, lower and lower, with the love of his life crying and screaming all the way down. His only thought was to undo what he had just done. He would _not_ allow Aloysius to die by his hand.

Their broom descended lower until it reached the front lawn of Adam and Belle's castle. Once the broom was three or four feet above the grass, Marcel gave Adelaide a shove with his palm to topple her off, along with her cat. She tumbled in the grass, her skirts disheveled, her face red and wet with tears.

"Go to the door!" he yelled to her, frantically scanning the sky and seeing Aloysius' body. Their good friend was falling fast. His body- still in a broom riding position- turned and rotated in a horrific way. His broom was a falling speck in the sky alongside him.

Marcel took off at lightning speed in the doomed man's direction. "_Arrêter l'élan!_" he cried out.

He hoped and prayed the spell would land. Pointing his finger wildly at the falling figure disappearing into the treetops, he repeated the spell one more time.

Keeping his eye on the section of treetops where Aloysius had fallen into, Marcel flew his broom directly into the forest. Tree branches cut into his face and neck, stinging painfully. More branches snapped, cracked, and broke while he tried to land, finally touching down with a crash. He fell against a thick tree trunk, hitting his head on it. He barely registered the pain.

"_Aloysius!... Aloysius!" _

It was foolish of him to call out the man's name. He would be unconscious under the _Petrifier_ curse, that is, if he were still alive.

...

Adelaide lay on her stomach on the grassy lawn, sobbing, while Lorette nuzzled her head, sensing her distress. She could not fathom or believe what she had just seen.

Marcel had just killed Monsieur Aloysius.

She had heard his scream of '_No!'_ the moment after she recognized Aloysius' face. She hoped upon hope that this was unintentional on Marcel's part. She had been so overcome by her own fear and shock, she had no idea what Marcel was thinking or doing. It was all so sudden.

But whether it was accidental or not, the fact was that the kind man she worked with for months in the estate's kitchen was dead. The man who taught and explained to her more things about Enchanted society- after Marcel first introduced her to it- was gone, and in such a horrible way.

She had never seen someone kill another human being in her life. She had heard Gaston talk of war, and the glory of battle for a good cause. It had all been abstract to her, not something she gave any further thought to, nor did she _want_ to give it any thought. Now she had seen it with her own eyes. An act of killing in Enchanted form. That cracking sound, the gold beam like a small bolt of lightning shot from the fingers of the man she loved. The beam hitting Aloysius. The image of him plummeting from the sky, like a goose hit with a hunter's shotgun. _Why?_

She was exhausted, sore, stricken with grief, and the last thing she wanted to do was stand and walk up a long flight of steps to those double doors. Disturbing the peace of a grand chateau, where a benevolent couple and a crowd of happy, well-cared-for servants lived, likely enjoying dinner this time of day. 'Servant' wasn't even the right word. The people were all treated as an extended family.

One of them was a woman who would soon learn her brother was a killer, perhaps as much a killer as Adelaide's brother-in-law Gaston had once been. Yet even _he_ had been forgiven in this place.

As Adelaide looked up to the stone staircase and towering walls of the great castle of the noble young couple, she felt drawn to it as if the place were a sanctuary filled with goodness, kindness and security. She stood on shaking legs. Lorette began to bound up the stairs ahead of her, the cat leading the way with a swaying tail.

She lumbered uncomfortably up the stairs, grief-stricken over Aloysius and devastated that her loving man, who only a short time ago had been embracing and kissing her and flirting and making her laugh all through their flight- had done this deed. And even if it _was_ an accident, a case of a hair-trigger reaction, the fact he had caused _this_ ripped her heart to shreds.

She finally reached the heavy wooden double doors and tapped the knocker. The sounds of her knocks reverberated through the interior. She felt rude, like she was intruding. What was she supposed to say? She was alone at the moment, and there were only a few people she'd come to know the last time she was here. Plumette of course, Marcel's sister who had been lovely and hospitable. Her husband Monsieur Lumiere, so gregarious and kind. The funny, flamboyant fellow who wore bright-colored bow ties. She'd meant to write to him, but had since forgotten his name. The lady who served tea and was so comforting to Emilie during her ordeal, calling her 'poppet' and letting her stay in her family suite. Adelaide hoped at least one of those memorable servants would be the one to answer the door.

Someone finally opened the door; it wasn't someone she could recall. The aging, stout gentleman gave her a respectful bow of his head as he stood there with an austere formality.

"Good evening, Madame. Welcome to the castle of the Prince and Princess of Alsace. May I ask the intentions of your calling?" he inquired.

Adelaide had to pull herself together. She probably looked a mess. She wiped the tears off her cheek and tried to mirror the gentleman's posture by standing up straighter. To her great embarrassment, Lorette rushed inside past the man's feet. He regarded the cat with a raise of an eyebrow.

"Please excuse my cat, Monsieur. She hasn't learned respect or decorum quite yet," Adelaide told him.

The dutiful man's face split in a grin beneath his mustache. He tried to suppress a chuckle. "The privilege of animals is worth envying, is it not?"

"True," Adelaide said, forcing a smile. The man gave her a questioning look, a remnant of humor still shining in his eyes.

"My intentions are that I have...an emergency." The horrible memory of Marcel cursing Aloysius came fresh in her mind. She burst into fresh tears. "I'm sorry!" she squeaked, losing her voice as her throat tightened. "Please, may I come in?"

Concern came over the man's face. "Of course you may, my dear. My name is Monsieur Henry Cogsworth. May I ask _your_ name?" He put a guiding hand on her shoulder and escorted her in.

"My name is Mademoiselle Adelaide Fortier, _merci,_" she said quietly through tears.

The grand foyer was just as beautiful and ornate as it was the evening she and Emilie first visited, although much quieter and emptier this moment. Previously, they had come with Gaston, Marcel, and two other friends, Jean and Clémence Paquet. There had been music playing; a harpsichord and violin accompanying singers. It had been the evening of the Prince's birthday party, the evening when Gaston's old life came back to haunt him.

She recalled going into this foyer and into the great ballroom entrance, not far from the front wing of the castle. Emilie and Gaston- who went by the name Luc- were walking in the lead, arm in arm, happy, engaged, without a care in the world other than being a bit late due to muddy roads. Adelaide had been ecstatic for her sister that evening, and devastated only moments later when chaos broke out the moment they all walked into the ballroom.

Adelaide recalled walking with Marcel at her side, both of them feeling a bit shy and awkward. He wasn't her date, _per se_, but the other couples were together and so they naturally joined up as a pair of spares. Marcel was scanning the crowd trying to find his sister. Within a moment, Adelaide and Marcel could sense something 'off' about all the people around them. They were whispering, acting shocked, heads were turning to stare at someone. It took them a minute to realize that the 'someones' were Gaston and Emilie.

Princess Belle gave Gaston some angry, condemning words. Prince Adam ordered his staff to seize Gaston and lock him in the dungeon. And Emilie had been heartbroken.

Many mixed emotions from her memories of the birthday party trip came over Adelaide, as Monsieur Cogsworth walked her to a chair in a side parlor near the foyer. He made her sit down.

"Please, tell me the emergency you speak of, Mademoiselle. Do you wish to see the Master and Mistress?"

"N-no, I'm sorry, not right now. The emergency is...someone was just killed outside!" She took a shuddering breath.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Someone...my friend just-" The words were not coming to her. These people weren't likely to know Aloysius. They weren't aware of wizard battles breaking out over the sky outside. The only one who would have any clue would be Plumette.

"May I please speak to Madame Plumette? She's...one of the staff, and it's her f-family. She can help us, please!"

He nodded, confused. "Of course, dear. Madame Plumette is my good friend's wife. It was dinnertime a while ago, they might be in the kitchen area. I shall try to find her."

Monsieur Cogsworth left, and Adelaide tried to calm herself in this elegant room. All she could do now was cry, wiping her eyes with the skirt of her dress, now in a place so far from home, with one friend dead and another, her love, with blood on his hands.

She had her head down in her hands when she felt someone walking near. "Mademoiselle?" the lady said. Adelaide looked up and was relieved to see Madame Plumette once again.

"Madame Plumette, something terrible...it's...I don't know how to _tell_ you this-"

"What is it?" Plumette said, putting her hand on the other woman's shoulder. Someone else entered the room, a man with a mustache. It was her husband.

"Do you remember me? My name is Adelaide," she said mournfully.

"_Oui_, I remember you, Adelaide," said Plumette with kindness. "You were a friend of my brother, and I gave you one of his old belongings because you were so upset about what happened."

"He's out of prison...but-"

"_Dieu merci!_" said Lumiere. "We have been so worried about him. What an unfortunate thing to go through!"

"Please tell me what is wrong, Mademoiselle," said Plumette. "Is Marcel all right?"

"He's out there...somewhere," Adelaide sobbed, pointing to the tall window. "We came here together. On a broom."

"A broom?" Lumiere said with a raised eyebrow.

"Madame Plumette, and Monsieur...one of our friends is dead!" exclaimed Adelaide. "A man was hit...by a curse and fell from his broom, and I don't know where he landed, but he _must_ be dead. He fell out of the sky!" Tears streamed down her red, still windburned cheeks.

"The Enchanted people must be having a civil war!" said Plumette, now distressed. She looked at Lumiere. "Francois- the letter I received from my Aunt Celeste's husband earlier, remember? He told me they left France for their safety, and he assured me not to worry. But something _is_ wrong with my family!"

"_Oui, ma cherie,_ it was the letter that flew out of the parlor fireplace!" Lumiere exclaimed as he cradled his wife's shoulder.

"So you said that Marcel is out of the prison? And he is here?" Plumette asked.

"Yes, but...he killed Aloysius with a horrible curse!" Adelaide sobbed out.

"_Marcel _killed this person?" Plumette asked, horrified.

"Yes!" Adelaide put her hands over her face, and as the couple touched her shoulders, one on each side of her, she babbled out her story with choked sobs.

"I don't understand what happened, but it could've been an accident! We were escaping Paris together, because _Le Minist__è__re_ is out to k-kill him, and we saw a-another man flying a broom, he was f-flying a broom right towards us! Marcel might not have recognized Aloysius, and he attacked him! I _know_ he wouldn't mean t-to kill his friend, but we w-were so shocked and scared! Madame Plumette, I don't know what to _say!_"

"_Mon Dieu!_" Plumette's eyes teared up; she put a hand over her mouth in horror. "Not my darling brother! He _couldn't_ have!"

Two other people had come into the room. With self-consciousness, Adelaide saw it was Princess Belle and Prince Adam.

"Mademoiselle, are you all right? Are you hurt?" asked Belle, who was dressed comfortably in an empire-waist, floral-print day dress.

"The lady is very upset, Mistress Belle," said Lumiere. "We must give her some tea and hospitality."

"I'll find Mrs. Potts," said Adam, a concerned look on his face. He turned to leave the parlor. Belle drew nearer with clasped hands. "You look familiar, Mademoiselle. Have we met before?" she asked.

Adelaide looked up at the lovely Princess, a petite slip of woman about her own age, perhaps younger. Belle's clasped hands were placed over her midsection which looked to be swollen, as if she were in a delicate condition. Adelaide certainly did not want to bother the Princess with her problems.

"Your Highness," she said with a bow of her head, trying to dry her tears, "We had come here to your husband's birthday celebration with the Marquis de Brumagne early last summer. My sister was named Emilie. You had met her, we were together."

"Emilie," Belle's eyes widened in memory. "Is she doing well?"

"Yes. She and her new husband are doing well, living in Paris."

Belle smiled politely and did not say any more. Plumette moved away from Adelaide and approached the Princess. "I have a family emergency," she told her in a lowered voice. "The lady came here with my brother, and there is trouble. There is a problem concerning the Enchanted society."

"Is Mademoiselle Agathe nearby?" Belle asked in curiosity. "She had visited us a few times this past year or so. She helped us around the castle before with her magical charms. She must know something about this."

"I don't know where Agathe is right now, Your Highness, but it's possible. She should be near," Adelaide said, gaining her composure. Another lady, Mrs. Potts, came in with a rolling tea tray.

"Please make yourself comfortable, poppet. Our door is always open for someone in need," she said.

"Thank you," Adelaide whispered, reaching for a warm cup of fragrant orange tea. She felt surrounded by kind, caring people, but her horror over Marcel and Aloysius would not abate. A 'meow' was heard in the corner of the room, and Lorette came in to settle at her mistress' feet by the chair.

"What a dear-looking little cat," said Belle. "Is she yours?"

"Yes," Adelaide said sadly, her hands gripping the teacup to hide her tearstained face.

...

Marcel scanned the thick woods from side to side, ahead and behind. No sign of the man. With weakened knees, he picked up his broom from where it had fallen and started to walk in the direction he'd just crashed through.

His eye caught a spot of grey clothing, high above in one treetop. The early evening sun cast its rays on the grey coat as if it were a blessing from heaven.

"_Aloysius!_" Marcel mounted his broom and put it in a slow levitation about thirty feet above him, He could see with relief that one of his castings of '_Arrêter l'élan' _had succeeded.

Aloysius' stiff body was caught up in thick tree foliage, but he did not hit the ground. His face and head bore a few bleeding scratches and cuts. He was Petrified, but whether he was alive or dead could not be determined at this point. Marcel felt a sting in his own eye and cheek, and after touching his face and finding blood on his hand, he realized the same thing happened to him from the crash. They were minor injuries.

He had to undo the curse to discover the man's true fate. "_Arrêter la Pétrification," _Marcel whispered, laying his bloody hand on the older man's scratched temple. As the body began to lose its stiffness, Marcel spilled out words of remorse, prayer, supplication, whatever he could express to his fallen friend, and to the greater powers that be.

"Monsieur Aloysius, it's me, Marcel. I didn't _recognize_ you! I thought you were an enemy! I struck before thinking! I didn't _know_ it was you! I didn't _know!_" he repeated in hoarse shouts, his injured eye stinging as tears flooded it.

"Please be alive, please be alive, oh my God, _please _don't let this happen!"

It was all he could do while he watched the man for signs of life, weeping with just as much despair as his lady love wept inside the castle.

...


	17. Teacups and Healing

Chapter 17- Teacups and Healing

…

After Marcel watched over Aloysius for several minutes, the fallen wizard's eyelids fluttered and blinked. Aloysius inhaled a sharp, wheezing intake of breath and coughed. He clutched his hand to his chest.

"Aloysius! You're alive! Please talk to me!" shouted Marcel.

"Where am I?" the man gasped. "You...you thought I was..a...?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so _sorry_!" Marcel repeated for the hundredth time. "You're on the castle grounds. I'll get help, I promise!"

"Agathe," Aloysius said weakly. "I need Agathe."

"I'll find her! I'll go knock on the castle door and get help for you right now!" Marcel insisted. He stood up, reluctantly leaving the man lying in the grass next to his broom and ran to the castle as fast as he could.

...

Aloysius lay there with his heart weak and ill, feeling sorrow and shock over what happened up in the skies. "How foolish am I," he whispered to himself.

He'd recently acquired a broom from the cleaning closet in the castle and charmed it to fly. He anticipated Marcel and Adelaide arriving by broom when he and Agathe used his Magic Mirror at dinnertime that evening. Joyously, Aloysius had come up with the idea of trying out the new broom, flying up to greet his friends while still in the air.

He did not give any thought that Marcel would react the way he did. He felt like a fool, trusting he'd be received as a friend and not a threat. "Merlin's sake," he breathed. "Times just aren't the same, are they?"

Over the last week, Aloysius had acquired some servant work in the castle. A few hours a day he was a cleaning boy sweeping the halls and nooks and crannies of the neglected spaces of the castle, keeping them tidy while all the maids were busy with main rooms.

Cleaning 'boy' was accurate. Aloysius had decided to Age-Shift himself into the form of a ten-year-old, which was Agathe's idea. He had argued at first, but realized that it worked. He was able to help himself to all kinds of scrumptious leftover foods and drinks and bring them to the cottage in lieu of being paid actual _Sans-Magie_ money.

Mr. and Mrs. Potts were the ones who first encountered young 'Alain' when he knocked on the front door. A boy with messy brown hair, dressed in tattered clothes and barefoot, he told a sob story about having a sick _grand-mere. _Aloysius felt a bit guilty, as it was a lie, after all. The couples- both the Potts' and Adam and Belle- couldn't resist a sad story of a youngster come upon hard luck.

Finding a spare old broom in the custodial closet was the icing on the cake. For Aloysius, the last week had been a carefree, idyllic existence away from the worries of events back in Paris.

Marcel's attack was a wake up call.

It was getting chilly while Aloysius waited for aid. The middle of his chest was tight and wracked with so much pain he was unable to take normal breaths. Soon, a shuffle of feet could be heard in the grass, someone coming back to him. Aloysius looked up and saw the folds of a green and gold striped gown.

"Aloysius, we should have known," said Agathe. He felt his body levitate in the air as his cousin waved her hands, and before he knew it, he was in the bed in their small cottage hideout.

"Agathe, tell them...where I am. That boy can't...forgive himself over this," Aloysius told her with shallow breaths. "I...I could use some of that healing draught, if there is more left in the cauldron. My heart...my chest-"

"I will get you some potion straight away."

"Go...tell Marcel...that you-" Aloysius tried to say. The last thing he wanted was to vanish from the grounds and torment him further.

"The potion first!" said Agathe. She quickly went to the tiny cast iron stove where a cauldron still simmered over a blue flame. She used a cup and a ladle to gather up the healing and strengthening potion Aloysius had brewed for her earlier. There was only about two cups of the tea-like brew remaining.

…

Plumette and Mrs. Potts sat with Adelaide in the parlour, drinking tea with her as she sat in great distress and sorrow. The big talk of the castle- the joyous news that a child would be born to Belle and Adam the coming December- distracted Adelaide just enough to relax for the time being.

"It sounds like all is well and happy here," said Adelaide to the two other women. "All of you must be so excited."

"Yes, dear, my son will be over the moon to have a little boy or girl to watch over," said Mrs. Potts. "There are so few children in the castle these days. That reminds me- I haven't seen Alain sweeping the halls today. I wonder if he and Chip went outside to explore the forest."

Adelaide shut her eyes with new distress, thinking of Aloysius falling into the forest from hundreds of feet in the sky. The idea of young boys finding him was horrifying. "Oh no," she breathed.

Plumette reached to put her hand on Adelaide's arm, and noticed bruises and scratches on her fair skin. "What happened?"

"It must have been the broom landing. I guess I fell," Adelaide said, a partial truth. Marcel had literally shoved her off with his hand during the initial landing in his haste to save Aloysius. It upset her greatly, but she now realized what kind of mental state he was in.

"Plumette, he was trying to save him," Adelaide said suddenly.

"_Pardonnez-moi,_ mademoiselle?"

"Marcel was in a hurry to save Aloysius." said Adelaide. Just then, a pounding could be heard at the front door, the sound echoing in the foyer.

"Someone else is at the door," said Plumette. "Let me go and see who it is."

Adelaide's heart rate sped up. It could either be horrible news or good news. She rose and followed the maid, who walked with quick, graceful strides into the foyer. The knocking was loud and insistent.

Plumette opened one of the heavy double doors, and Marcel collapsed forward onto the rug on the floor. "Adelaide!" he cried out while on his hands and knees, a bleeding mess of scratches and cuts.

"Marcel! _Dieu merci!_" exclaimed Plumette. "You are here! But you need a doctor!"

"Jacinta, I missed you...Adelaide! He's alive!" Marcel shouted as he struggled to get up from the floor, Plumette at his side hugging him. "Aloysius is alive!"

"You're hurt!" exclaimed Adelaide.

"Not that bad...Aloysius is out on the lawn…" he said, panting heavily from the run up the staircase.

Adelaide's eyes flooded with tears again, overcome with both relief and desperation to know what was behind his actions. "_Why_? Why did you attack without finding out who he was?" she heard herself saying. She regretted those words as soon as she saw his agonized expression.

"Adelaide, it was a mistake and I stopped the fall!" Marcel yelled. Mrs. Potts walked into the foyer, her hands clasped with concern.

"Oh dear- Cogsworth!" Mrs. Potts called out to the majordomo. "We have another distressed visitor, bless his heart." Cogsworth and Lumiere came to the foyer and helped the injured and shaken man to his feet.

"Take some deep breaths, _mon ami._ Let's first tend to those cuts," said Lumiere.

"I need to find Agathe!" Marcel tried to argue, as both Cogsworth and Lumiere steered him to the same sofa Adelaide had been sitting in earlier.

"Monsieur, you may search for her later," insisted Cogsworth. "Incidentally, we haven't seen the Enchantress here in months. You, my boy, look like a jigsaw puzzle missing half its pieces. You are bleeding everywhere."

"I can't help it...I crash-landed," Marcel said with embarrassment, trying not to drip blood on the elegant floor.

Adelaide followed the men and sat next to her beloved, grasping his hand. Streaks of blood from Marcel's hand spread to hers, but she did not care.

"I _know_ you didn't mean to do this."

"Please believe me that I didn't," he said to her in a quieter voice.

"I _do_ believe you," she assured. "I saw the man flying towards us, didn't know who it was, and I was scared! You expected someone from _Le Ministère_."

"Adelaide, do you realize what I could have _done_?" Marcel put his hands over his face and tried to suppress a gasping sob. "What if I used the other curse? What if I froze him like I froze-"

"But you _didn't_! He's alive...but how is he?"

"His heart is weak, I think," Marcel said through his fingers, still covering his face as he took labored breaths, trying to calm down. Adelaide wrapped both arms around him in a loving embrace. "Could he still die?" she asked him in a tight voice, regretting the words.

"He's very ill from what I did to him. He might...I _need _to find..._Agathe Sauvageon_!" Marcel declared in a louder voice, emphasizing both her first and last names.

The moment he called out her full name, a white, smoky glow formed in the parlor room. Agathe materialized before them in front of the fireplace, yet she was only visible from the chest up.

Adelaide screamed.

Agathe's form was a ghostly vision, sure to terrify _Sans_-_Magies_ not used to it. She wore a green and gold striped dress, her blonde hair in an elegant updo. Adelaide stared at her in confusion, not recognizing the woman. "But you don't look-"

"You have only met me once, in my elderly form, Mademoiselle. Many months ago, when I came to the Marquis' estate to see Gaston. As you can see me now, I am appearing at my true age. I'm not in this room. I'm actually out in my cottage helping Aloysius, but Marcel Summoned me."

Marcel dropped his hands from his face before attempting to stand up from the sofa. "Aloysius- is he all-"

Agathe cut him off. "Marcel, dear, you _need_ to settle down and be tended to by these women. Just listen to me!" she admonished. Marcel settled back on the sofa.

"I had to appear to you quickly, to tell you that Aloysius is in my secret hideout. Thank you for your clever thinking to Summon me. He's resting. I gave him some healing potion and he should recover with time. And Marcel, I have your broom in my cottage by the way. At any rate, I ask all of you to _please_ let us be for a few days. I assure you he will recover."

"Agathe, do you even realize what I _did?_"

"Yes, and your speed and accuracy to stop his fall was impressive. However, this is now the second time you've nearly caused the death of an ally." said Agathe, her eyes fixed on his in a stern manner.

"I know," he whispered through his fingers.

"Truly, you should thank the stars over Merlin's tomb that you did _not_ use the spell you could have used."

"I almost did."

"The next time it happens, I cannot undo your spells or use my healing potions or powers. I may not always be there to rectify your mistakes, Marcel. I know you haven't used combative curses much in your life, yet you still attempt to fight. I hope this proves to be a lesson."

Marcel slumped down on the chair and stared at the floor, thinking only of how he appeared like a weak failure in front of all these women. He wanted desperately to be seen as a strong warrior who could fight for the victims of Bertrand's regime, not a foolish wizard who made nothing but mistakes.

Plumette, meanwhile, began to dip cloths in the warm kettle of herbal tea, preparing to nurse his wounds. Adelaide stared in awe at Agathe's ghostly projection.

The Enchantress bowed her head in a polite farewell. "I must go back to Aloysius' side. Please don't worry, he will be in _my_ capable hands. I'm giving him his own healing potion that he brewed for me. I will come back later, Marcel, when he's ready to see you." With that, she vanished the same way she had popped in.

"Oh, thank God!" said Adelaide, new tears welling in her eyes. She looked to Marcel and saw that he did not share her joy yet. His hands still covered his face in shame.

Plumette took a soaked cloth out of the teapot on the tray and attempted to pry her brother's hands from his face to wipe the blood off them. Adelaide reached for a napkin on the tea tray to do the same.

"Jacinta, let me be!" he protested.

"Please relax, _petit,_" Plumette tried to cajole. "Adelaide told me about Maman," she added quietly.

"We may not see her for a long time," Marcel said, holding still so Plumette could press a second tea-soaked cloth on his scratched cheek.

"I do not want to think about that right now," she replied, wiping his fingers one by one with the damp handkerchief in an almost maternal way. "Adelaide, we'll need more clean cloths and some soap and warm water," Plumette said to her matter-of-factly. "They're in the kitchen, someone will show you if you ask around."

Adelaide took Plumette's words and tone as an indicator that she wanted to speak with her brother alone. She left Marcel's side to wander out in the halls in search of someone to show her to the kitchen.

"This is war, Jacinta. Do _not_ leave this castle," Marcel said, wincing while Plumette pressed the wet cloth on his face.

"Just hold the cloth there, Marcel," Plumette said quietly. "My Francois and Their Highnesses, and all of my dear castle staff family will not allow me to be harmed by anyone, and I have _no_ reason to imagine-"

"Just how long are you going to distance yourself from your actual blood family? _Damn it,_ Jacinta!" Marcel yelled sharply, holding the cloth on his injured left eye. "You've been in your own little world here, while our Enchanted world is getting worse and worse! When I was nine years old, you used my childish magical ability so you could sneak out that window and run away from home. I expected you to come back. But you never returned! And since then, you've had little to do with me, Maman, or your aunt and cousin. Do you even remember Monique? She's not little anymore. Aunt Celeste is the same as you are. A _Sans-Magie_ born to Magicals, yet she still lives in Enchanted society. And now they will be gone, far away."

Marcel turned away from his sister after speaking, keeping the tea cloth pressed to his eye.

"I haven't been trying to 'distance' myself," Plumette said gently. "It's unfortunate, that is all. If anyone distanced me from you, _mon petit_, it was Agathe. She kept me away from you for years. But think about it. Her curse protected us from all that 'Exposure' to the greater world you used to go on and on about. All the time you worked and spied for that man." She kept her voice quiet and steady, while her brother sighed with stress and frustration.

Adelaide returned with soapy water and cloths. She noticed that Marcel and Plumette seemed tense with each other.

"Are you all right?" she asked, taking her seat next to Marcel. "This soap might hurt a bit," she said, as Marcel pulled the cloth from his face and let Adelaide replace it with a soap treated cloth. He winced.

"I'm sorry, honey, but you don't want to ruin your eyesight or get permanent scars. What did you do? Fly your broom at high speed through a forest?" Adelaide asked, her emotions now more cheerful, her manner calm.

"Yes. I _had_ to. It's how I stopped what could have happened, and spared Aloysius' life," Marcel said in a sad tone.

"I'm so glad you did! And now he will get well with Agathe's care and the potion. And _you_ will heal." Adelaide leaned forward to kiss Marcel's scratched cheek. "Even if you do get scars, it will be a sign of your heroism."

"There's nothing heroic about what I did, Adelaide," Marcel said darkly. "This is the _second_ time I almost killed a person! All I ever do is mess things up and make things worse. You heard Agathe." He gave Plumette a sad, regretful look. "Even from the time I was a child. You realize I was so _stupid_ to help you run away from home and I shouldn't have. Why did you _use_ me for my magic, Jacinta? I was just a naive kid!"

"I am so sorry, Marcel. I was young then. I wasn't thinking, except about how I didn't fit in with our family and how I wanted a new life. I was in _love_," Plumette explained. She sighed with guilt of her own. "I took a chance, and if I hadn't, I couldn't have been with my Francois."

Marcel rolled his un-bandaged eye at the ceiling. "I _know _you love Monsieur Lumiere, but-"

"Mademoiselle Adelaide?" Plumette turned to her. "Forgive me for asking such a question, but- did _you_ just leave your family behind?"

Adelaide's lips parted as she attempted to deny it, but she could not. She nodded. "Yes. I left my family behind to be with Marcel, but I plan on seeing them again."

"And may I ask you, Mademoiselle, _who_ took you to leave your family and travel from Paris all the way to Alsace this evening on a flying broom?" Plumette's lips turned up in a slight smile.

"Jacinta!" Marcel groaned. "You are comparing apples with oranges!"

"I don't think it's much of a difference, honey," Adelaide said, reclining her head against Marcel's shoulder and cradling his now-clean hand in hers. "So, it sounds as if Plumette ran away from Paris to be with Monsieur Lumiere because she loved him and wanted a chance at happiness. And earlier today, _you _asked me if I was in or out. I made the choice to be in. I chose to run off, or actually, _fly_ off with you- because I love you."

Marcel sighed, gazing down at their intertwined hands.

"Plumette was feeling exactly the same way for Monsieur Lumiere," Adelaide said gently. She glanced at Plumette, who nodded. "And Marcel, you-" she continued, "_you_ wanted to take me away with you, because I can only assume you love me and you are determined to possess me. Isn't that right?" Adelaide gave him a tender smile.

Marcel put the cloth down, took a deep breath and gazed at her, a small smile forming. "More than you could ever know, _ma petite._ Although I would _not_ want to force possession upon you."

"And neither would I, but I'm feeling this shameful hope to...possess you as well," Adelaide said shyly, beginning to blush.

Plumette smiled as she watched them, one hand on her cheek, rather enjoying this interaction. After all, it was a drama concerning her favorite thing in the entire world- _l'amour._

"Adelaide," Marcel said very softly, "I...I ask your forgiveness for doing what I did to Aloysius. _And_ my being so rough with you on the landing. I didn't mean to shove you off my broom like that."

"_What?_" said Plumette.

"It's fine," both Marcel and Adelaide said to her in unison.

"I frightened you, Adelaide. I messed up so badly." Marcel's expression darkened.

"You were only in a hurry to save Aloysius' life," she replied. "And you are a _very_ powerful wizard if you were able to reverse it and stop him from falling to his death. That must have been an _amazing_ feat of sorcery! I only regret not _seeing_ you do it."

"I believe that, _mon petit frere_. You've had powerful magic ever since you were a little boy," said Plumette. She looked at Adelaide. "To the point where he couldn't _control_ it. He was in trouble with Maman so many times," she added with a gentle laugh. She sobered as she gazed at her brother, his expression clearly embarrassed and remorseful.

"Marcel, I need to apologize to you...and Maman...for what I did when I was a teenager. You are right. I should _not_ have used your powers for my advantage the way I did back then. I _asked_ you to levitate me so I could climb out the window and leave. It was selfish of me. You were just a little boy and you didn't know better. Please forgive me, _petit._"

"It's in the past, Jacinta. It doesn't matter now," said Marcel. "But...I just _missed _you."

"And I missed you and Maman," said Plumette. "I _meant_ to come back to you. Right after Francois and I married. But then, that Christmas-"

"When Agathe-"

"_Oui."_

Adelaide made a concerned face, lifting her head from Marcel's shoulder. "Don't both of you think that Agathe should apologize to you for breaking your family apart? Hasn't it occurred to you that _she's_ the villain here?"

"Adelaide, she's paid her dues for her bad deeds, _believe me_," said Marcel.

Plumette fixed him with a questioning look. "I'm very surprised to see you defending her. I thought you despised Agathe, to the point you worked with that Ministry officer to throw her in prison. But now, you're Summoning her to this very parlor, putting your trust in her, and now she's your wise mentor! What happened for this change of heart?"

"I owe her a great gratitude for a life saved."

"_What_?" Plumette was confused. "Whose life saved? Who was your first attack victim she helped?"

Adelaide gasped. "The werewolf?"

"_Werewolf_?" Plumette said in shock, just as Lumiere strode into the room, bearing a plate of small cakes and other sweets made fresh by Mrs. Potts.

"Ah, _Monsieur_! I see you are cleaned up and not in grave danger after all! What were you saying about werewolves, _mon ami_? Was that the creature that nearly tore your face to ribbons?"

Marcel shook his head. "No. Well, that actually came close to happening too, but-" He stopped as the three pairs of eyes fixed him with concern. "Can I not talk about it? I'm very tired."

"So am I," Adelaide said, She yawned for emphasis, and Marcel raised Adelaide's hand to his lips and kissed it.

"Plumette and I will prepare two comfortable bedrooms for each of you," said Lumiere.

"Two?" said Marcel, exchanging a quick grin with Adelaide.

"Yes! _Two_!" said Plumette, smiling.

Lumiere put the plate of cakes down next to the tea tray, and Adelaide was the first to reach for the tempting snacks.

…

A short while later, Adelaide had eaten three pieces of frosted cake- she'd been famished and emotionally run through the wringer, after all. As a result, the sugar and chocolate was coursing through her blood, keeping her awake at eleven o'clock. She got out of the small single bed where Lorette lay curled up on a pillow. Belle had given Adelaide some cat food from her own cat, and a pile of poetry books for her to read. But the print in the old books was so tiny, it hurt her eyes to try reading them.

She opened the door and tiptoed down the hallway, wearing the long, white lacy nightgown Plumette had laid out for her. She found the door at the end, where she'd heard Marcel, Lumiere, and Plumette still chatting and bidding each other 'good night' a few minutes before. She knocked.

"Marcel?"

"Adelaide, you should be sleeping!" came his reply.

"I can't sleep. Can I talk alone with you, just for a minute? I wanted to say good night."

"All right, my love," she heard him reply with a laugh in his voice. He opened the door. "You look beautiful," he said when he saw her in the white gown with her hair freshly brushed, her brown curls tamed to soft waves on her shoulders.

"Thank you, honey. You look handsome for a man who was just torn up by tree branches."

"_Merci_. I could be worse."

"You look like a brave survivor, actually," Adelaide said with the teasing tone they'd shared on their broom ride. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her into the room. They shared a soft, lingering kiss.

"I love you, I hope you realize that by now," he said.

Adelaide gave a soft sigh of content. "I love you to the moon, and the stars over What's-His-Name's tomb, dear Warlock."

"It's Merlin. I'm sure Princess Belle has a book about him here. You should read it."

"Have you heard anything new about Aloysius yet?" she asked.

"He's doing much better, I found out. I couldn't resist Summoning Agathe the minute I was alone in this room. She was kind of cross with me. She has Aloysius resting in her cottage and she was about to go to sleep herself. I'm not exactly on her list of favorite people, still."

"You're number one on the list of mine," said Adelaide, her cheeks flushing.

They gazed at each other awkwardly for a few moments. Marcel finally spoke. "Adelaide...you should go to sleep now. It's kind of...um, improper for you to be here, don't you think?"

Her eyes blazed with a sort of desperate..._something_ that Marcel had never seen before. "You told me that I'm risking my life to be with you," she said.

"Yes! I can't deny that. There is a _war _in my world," he said in a fierce whisper, breaking her gaze and looking over at the quilted bed nearby. "Come, sit down if you wish to talk," he said sheepishly, patting the bed.

Adelaide sat down on the bed and Marcel reclined next to her in a casual manner. "I've been thinking," he said. "And as much as my sister and brother-in-law want us to stay here for a long time and visit with them, I feel guilty for hiding away."

"Why? What are you planning to do?" Adelaide asked.

"I keep remembering Robert the werewolf, and Toulouse, and all the other people whose lives are in danger under the Minister's tyranny. My two flying horses are still in the stables here. I never had the chance to see them tonight. After I see to Aloysius and recuperate, and...spend time with you-" he clasped her hand- "I'm going to get my horses back, hitch them up to my old stagecoach, fly back to Paris, and see if I can find Robert and Toulouse, and whoever their friends may be."

"I thought you had to escape Paris! Why would you be so crazy to go back there?"

"To find them. So we can meet and plan a strategy with Aloysius when he recovers. Plans to attack _Le __Ministère__._ Magical weapons."

"Weapons? What are you talking about?"

"All kinds of things. Just...you know, things that explode, frightening creatures, damaging curses. I've been sitting here thinking about what our Resistance army can gather."

"Marcel! Do you realize how stupid you sound?"

"It's not stupid, Adelaide! How naive are you anyway? This is war!" He pulled his hand from hers and turned away towards the wall, irritated.

"But you're not _thinking_ clearly!" Adelaide said, confused.

"I'm just thinking of ideas, all right?" he said defensively. "I'm talking about the Resistance. Didn't Aloysius mention people starting a resistance group?"

"Yes. He called it the E.R.A. The Enchanted...something," she recalled.

"Whatever it was they were calling it, it's a rebellion. Now that I'm free from prison, I'm on board with them. I have some ideas," Marcel spoke quietly, but with zealous enthusiasm. "Soon, I want to find my allies. I'll bring those gentlemen here, to safety. This castle, and the village and grounds, is perfect headquarters and Agathe's here. She's powerful enough to put plenty of protective charms over our group."

"Why don't you stay here for a while? With your sister? Reconnect with her?" Adelaide begged. "If you want to see those men in Paris, can't you just do that..._thing_ that makes a person's ghost pop in if you want to talk?"

"I could, yes," he said, trying to hide an amused smile at the way she put it. "I could use the Summons, but only if they put a Summons Charm on their names. Thank you for that idea, my love." He leaned towards her; she began to smile again. She scooted closer and joined her lips to his.

"But Adelaide," Marcel said quietly after they kissed, "I will have to go back to the city once we have an attack plan. It's only in the planning stages-"

"Do you not remember a certain little letter to your mother?" Adelaide interrupted, exasperation in her tone. "With a nice little phrase called- oh, what was it? '_Executed on Sight?_'

"I have my ways to travel in stealth," Marcel assured, seeing her eyes redden and glisten. "Please, don't start crying again." He brushed a thumb through her hair and kissed the top of her head once more.

"I don't want to lose you," she whispered. "I don't want to hear you talk about war."

"Don't worry. I'm a magic man. We have long life spans...usually. But we do need sleep. _Bonne nuit,_" he said, falling back on a nearby pillow and closing his eyes. "Where is Lorette?" he asked as an afterthought.

"In my guest room. She's all alone. So I...ought to go back to my own bed, shall I? I wouldn't want people to, um, suspect things."

_"_No, we wouldn't want that," Marcel said with a tired smile. "And, Adelaide?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for still thinking I'm brave and not an utter failure as a wizard. It means a lot to me. I love you."

_"_I love you._ Bonne nuit_," Adelaide went over to give him a chaste good-night kiss on the lips. She slipped back to her guest room to cuddle her golden cat Lorette, and sleep.

...


	18. Castle Life and Messenger Birds

Chapter 18- Castle Life and Messenger Birds

...

"_Ma cherie,_ what did the doctor say about your symptoms?" Lumiere asked Plumette after they rose in the early dawn.

"It is certain," said Plumette in a tired voice. "But this is not a good time, _mon beau. _We will be upstaging Her Highness if we make our announcement before the royal child is born this winter. Let us wait a few months."

"Why wait, my love?" said Lumiere, grinning as he tied his cravat. "Besides, your brother is here now. We should share the wonderful news! He will be getting a beautiful niece or nephew next year!"

Plumette sat on the edge of the bed and put her face in her hands for several moments. Lumiere wrapped his arm around her; she finally raised her head up and gazed at him with concern.

"I do not want to address this right now, Francois," she whispered.

"What is wrong?" Lumiere asked, sitting down next to her. "Surely you must not be worried about the magic in your family line. I would not mind at all! If we do end up with a baby Enchantress or Enchanter of our own in this castle, that would be a wonderful thing! Perhaps we can teach him or her to make dust and cobwebs disappear without tedious work, or to cook using magic!" he gushed. "And can you imagine- the little Prince or Princess having a magical best friend to grow up with? How charming! We could have dancing plates and silverware again, just like the- _ahem_\- good old days, if you could even call them that-"

Plumette shook her head. "_Non_, Francois. I hope and pray that our baby will be _Sans-Magie. _And I do not want my brother to know yet. That will give him more to worry about. I think it is most likely it will be _Sans-Magie_, since we are, but I was told I carry the trait for magical ability. There is always that chance."

Lumiere stood in front of Plumette and took her hands in his. "If the baby is magical, we do _not_ need to send him or her away to that Académie! We can homeschool our child. Use tutors, perhaps, just as Master Adam and Belle's child will surely have. We needn't even bother with silly things like wands or Magic Mirrors."

Lumiere could see the fear in her eyes, as she took a deep breath to reveal the things she'd learned about events in the Enchanted world. "It is not that simple anymore, Francois! _Le Ministère_ keeps track of every magical child born in France. From the moment of birth, the child will be put on their list. Labeled as '_Sang-Sale_.' A mixed-ancestry Enchanter child- that would be Magical and _Sans-Magie_, not black and white- can be targeted by the new Minister and his people for abuse, and danger! The new Minister of Magical France is an evil man, Francois. He ordered my brother to be starved in prison. He told me last night, after you had retired to bed."

"Starved in prison? How horrible!" Lumiere exclaimed. "And they abuse those who came from families of both kinds?"

"Oui, _mon chere_. Marcel wanted to speak with me alone for a few minutes last night, and he shared more details of his imprisonment. But there is also one more thing, good news. Agathe is here on the castle grounds again! You missed her appearance in the parlor yesterday."

"Agathe is back again? That woman concerns me sometimes, _cherie_. I do wish she would just let us be, and keep magic out of this castle. The only enchantment I want in this castle from now on is the possibility of our little one, who I fear could turn his or her Papa back into a candelabrum if I insist they eat their vegetables-"

Plumette sighed in exasperation. "Please listen, this is not the time for jokes! Marcel spoke to her again by Summons late last night. I heard her tell her side of the story. She put protective charms over the castle so that _Le __Ministère_ agents or workers cannot penetrate."

Lumiere looked at his wife with confusion. "How does that work? Forgive me, Plumette, but even though I had been under a curse for years, I don't understand the...er, mechanics of it all."

"Neither do I," said Plumette. "It is sort of like a great shield, she said. I don't know much about her powers or how they work. Agathe is very powerful. Of course, we know that fact from our experience."

"If Agathe is on our side, then it sounds as if she is going to fight for us, then. Do not worry about that magical government, my love." He put a gentle hand on Plumette's waist. "After all, the most likely outcome is that our baby will be perfectly normal...I mean, _Sans-Magie_, no offense to your brother and mother." Lumiere smiled again, and kissed his wife on the top of her head before pulling her to her feet and wrapping her in his arms.

"I worry about Adelaide," said Plumette. "She is such a kind and good person, and she loves my brother, but they are openly in such a dangerous relationship. Marcel is on the Ministry's most wanted list. Adelaide is in over her head now. After all, it was only last summer when she knew nothing about the Enchanted people. Do you remember when we first met her?"

"Ah, yes," said Lumiere. "That girl was a fierce defender of her good friend Gaston, insisting he was _not_ Gaston. He was 'Luc' for all she knew, since Agathe had given Gaston a false identity. Did that brute of a man actually marry Adelaide's sister?"

"I believe he did," said Plumette. "Remember he is a changed and reformed man now."

"Hard to fathom, of course," said Lumiere. "Agathe _is_ a miracle worker. So on that thought, she has my trust these days. And we have the rest of our lives to be human again and grow our family." He gazed at Plumette and caressed her cheek. "I remember the first time I laid eyes on you, all thanks to Master Adam's mother. Heaven rest Adele-Madeleine's sweet soul."

"_Oui_, the late Princess. She took me in after I ran away from home," Plumette recalled. "And before that, I remember her kindness when she first saw me in the restaurant in Paris, while I stood dusting the staircase."

"Do you remember my first words to you?" Lumiere said as he kissed her forehead.

"You wanted to find a well to fetch a drink of water?" She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a quick kiss.

"Yes, _cherie_. I was thirsty."

"And do you recall the birds that were flying around us? I know it was fate. Because of the letters. The bird post," said Plumette. "I was able to keep in touch with you. Such a miracle."

"Miracle? It was _magic_, no? I recall you telling me it was your brother who was our little matchmaker. He charmed the birds, did he not?"

Plumette laughed. "Yes, he did. I often forget that the magic Marcel performed as a child was not always naughty. Though making the birds deliver our letters _was_ naughty in my Maman's eyes."

"Speaking of naughty, perhaps _we_ should be so for a bit of time before we go down to work," Lumiere said, kissing her neck.

"My stomach is not well again, Francois. I need some bread or a biscuit to settle it," she protested.

Lumiere immediately went to the bedside dresser and opened a drawer, producing a pink box. "I bought those sweet biscuits you liked from the baker in Villeneuve. So I insist you have one right away," he said with a grin. "After all, you have two people to nourish."

"Why is it that I cannot stay afraid for very long when I am with you?" She leaned up to kiss him. "I love you so much, Francois."

"And I love both of you," said Lumiere. "I am hoping for a girl. I can see myself raising a girl, and I can picture Madame de Garderobe dressing her up in lace gowns. She will look more like you than like me."

"I hope for either. We have nine months to wonder and plan. But please, Francois, let us wait to tell. Unless Belle or Mrs. Potts notice first."

"True," Lumiere said, nodding in agreement. "Then a secret it shall be."

They each took a sweet biscuit from the bakery box and bit into them together. As the sun rose and peeked into their east facing window, they fell back onto the bed in a heap of Plumette's white cotton petticoats, cookie crumbs, and the couple's cheeky laughter.

...

Downstairs, most of the staff was already up and preparing breakfast. Adelaide joined Mrs. Potts with scrambling the many bowls of eggs, a task which brought her fond memories of working in the kitchen at the Marquis de Brumagne's country estate with Emilie and Gaston, while Gaston was living under his false 'Luc' identity. There were five other cooks and scullery maids in the kitchen, but Adelaide insisted on wanting to be of help. She whipped the eggs into a frothy yellow foam, ready for bread slices to be soaked into them for French toast.

"You certainly are doing well, dear. If only there were a vacancy for a scullery maid, but there is not," Mrs. Potts said kindly. Another cook, a man, immediately took it from her and began to dip bread slices, as if on an assembly line.

"Mrs. Potts," Adelaide said, trying to make conversation, "Did you say your husband and the Princess' father have an artisan's workshop right here in the castle?"

"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Beatrice Potts. "They make pottery, vases, music boxes, and many other creations. Belle's father is often commissioned for murals and portraits. He is so excited about the arrival of his grandchild soon, and he has already started to paint the room that shall be the baby's nursery!"

"How sweet!" said Adelaide. "And the royal baby is due sometime around Christmas, or the New Year?" Mrs. Potts nodded affirmatively.

A stocky middle-aged man in a chef's uniform walked past Adelaide and gave her a stern look. "If you insist on standing around in my kitchen, Mademoiselle, less talk and more egg beating!" He pointed a thumb at the pile of eggs in a straw filled crate on the floor.

With chagrin, Adelaide went to pick up the crate. "I feel as if I'm in the way. I better try to be more useful," she mumbled to Mrs. Potts.

"Oh, pish-posh," said Mrs. Potts. "That's Henri Cuisiner, not to be confused with Henry Cogsworth, our dearest majordomo! Monsieur Cuisiner is the head chef. He runs a tight ship, dear. And the lady cutting bread slices is his wife, my good friend Madame Joelle. They were just married a few months ago! Joelle, this is Adelaide, a guest of ours!"

An apron-wearing lady with a buxom, rounded figure much like Adelaide's, turned to wave at the visitor. "Bonjour, Adelaide!" she greeted. Adelaide could tell she was also a kind and warm lady like Madame Potts. The friend's unlined face looked much younger than what her true age must have been.

"Joelle's son is on staff as well," Mrs. Potts added while both she and Adelaide cracked eggs into separate bowls. "Her son is none other than our handsome Stanley- the tailor for Madame de Garderobe!"

"I remember Stanley the last time I was here," Adelaide said delightedly. He was the friend of the bow-tie wearing servant named Lefou.

"Of course you must remember him, if you have a pulse," Joelle said with a laugh as she dipped bread slices in egg froth. "_Any_ woman who sees my Stanley, remembers him for the rest of her life, with his good looks! He took after his late father, you see." Monsieur Cuisiner gave his wife a furrowed-brow look.

"But now, Henri- remember that _you_ are the most handsome man here over the age of fifty," Joelle said, leaving her work aside for a moment to rush over to Cuisiner and kiss him on the lips. His stern look faded. Adelaide could see his ruddy cheeks grow redder.

The cinnamon smell of the eggy bread beginning to bake in the great ovens was heavenly. Adelaide almost wished she could be one of the kitchen staff here; she did like cooking, especially when surrounded by friends. Madame Beatrice Potts and Madame Joelle were her kind of people; she fit in with them perfectly. Madame Potts reminded her of Madame Chambon, the kind head maid in her old job, but less strict and more talkative.

"Adelaide, dear, please join Joelle and I in the tea room," Mrs. Potts insisted. The three women walked out of the busy, hot kitchen and into the small room off the grand hallway. There, they sat and poured some cups of tea.

"How are Prince Adam and Princess Belle doing, besides the happy news about their baby?" Adelaide asked the two ladies.

"They are preparing to leave tomorrow, for a trip to Normandy. For a royal wedding," Mrs. Potts replied.

"A royal wedding?"

"Prince Louis Jean-Baptiste of Normandy is getting married."

Adelaide opened her mouth slightly in the most ill-mannered way; could not help her feelings of discomfort. _Evangeline. _She was going through with it after all. The poor little thing!

"Is something wrong?" Madame Joelle asked, sipping her tea.

"It's Lady Evangeline," Adelaide said. "She's the bride, correct?"

"Yes, that is what I believe the invitation said," said Mrs. Potts. "Evangeline de Brumagne, daughter of the Marquis Antoine de Brumagne, a lovely girl of nobility."

Adelaide fixed them with sad and guilty eyes. "I was her lady's maid until this last summer. I...well, I walked away from the job. A poor decision on my part. I considered Lady Evangeline a friend. And now she's going to...never mind. I have no say in such things." Evangeline had decided to follow her destined life path, Adelaide assumed. Which meant that she was going to marry Louis, who didn't love her.

Mrs. Potts caught Adelaide's concerned expression and frowned, nodding. "I do think that Louis is...well, let's say, a typical example of the family that Master Adam came from. Not much different than his namesake, Adam's father who was also named Prince Louis, after the King."

"In other words- spoiled, selfish and unkind?" Adelaide blurted out.

"_Shh!_" both lady servants shushed her. "We mustn't speak our opinions of the Master's family," said Mrs. Potts.

"I'm sorry," said Adelaide, feeling like she committed a social _faux-pas_ in the royal household as a guest. She blushed. "I just wish I could see and talk to Lady Evangeline again. I feel like I abandoned her, because I suddenly decided to switch jobs this summer. For personal reasons that seem ridiculous to almost everyone."

"Why would your personal reasons seem ridiculous, dear?"

Adelaide shrugged sadly, not really wanting to answer. "It's a long story."

The idea that _she_ could actually help Aloysius rescue Marcel from prison when she had no magical abilities herself looked stupid in hindsight. It turned out that Madame Sabine used her potions and quick thinking to head the rescue mission. Aloysius was clever also, having hidden Sauvageon's stolen wand and pouch of dust beneath his wig and using them for battle and escape. Toulouse, though young, was a clever fighter. Adelaide had just been in the way. There was that _one_ moment when she helped, fabricating a lie about Gaston being a wizard while he slept on Sabine's sofa- but Gaston would not have been _present_ if it weren't for him being her brother-in-law.

All Adelaide had done, it seemed, was to get herself in more trouble with Sauvageon and complicate things, getting her memory erased by him in the hotel. Aloysius and Madame Sabine had to take time and effort to cure her of that curse.

She put her hands around the warm, comforting teacup. After a moment she could hear music coming from a nearby room down the hallway, with a lovely voice singing.

"Who is performing the music? Are they the same people who performed at the Prince's birthday party?"

"Why, yes," said Madame Joelle. "They are almost always here in residence, when they are not touring, of course. Madame de Garderobe, the seamstress _and_ singer! With her husband, the Maestro Stefano Cadenza on harpsichord. A very talented duo! Breakfast is ready now, and they often like to sing and practice in the morning right before we all eat. Isn't it nice?"

"Yes," said Adelaide. "They sound wonderful."

In a few moments, she sat partaking in a delicious breakfast with her new friend Madame Beatrice Potts and her husband the artisan named Jean, with their young son Chip. The little boy talked and talked to Adelaide about many things in his life- the palace cat, helping his father mix pottery clay, learning to read. He wanted Adelaide to bring her cat Lorette to meet Belle's cat, and she promised to do so.

Adelaide's fondness of children- and Monsieur Jean's name- reminded her of her cousin Clémence and her husband Jean, who'd also attended the castle party. Her thoughts wandered to them. Clémence and Jean were expecting a baby, due in the winter just like the royal baby. Their life was still back at the Marquis de Brumagne's estate, happily working for Lady Evangeline's family- though now, Lady Evangeline would soon become the Princess of Normandy and leave them. A marriage made for wealth and social ties, not love.

Everyone else seemed to have settled into a life of happy, mundane normalcy. It was the kind of life that Adelaide belonged in. The morning in the huge castle kitchen, cooking and socializing, seemed so perfect to her. Yet, she knew she could not stay. Marcel would not sit here idly for long, after all.

She loved him and she'd promised him she was 'in,' and that meant going wherever he would go, being a part of this strange Enchanted War, the 'Resistance Army' he talked of. But would she be in his way? Would she be a foolish nuisance? Could they both be captured- or worse?

...

After breakfast, she excused herself and ran upstairs to the guest room she'd slept in and fetched Lorette. She took her cat and knocked on the door of the room Marcel had occupied last night.

"Marcel? It's me, Adelaide."

"Please come in. I might need your help." He sounded weary and tired. Adelaide was relieved he was still around and hadn't done anything crazy.

She opened the door to find him sitting at a small desk covered with letters and dozens of envelopes. Adelaide could smell melted wax from a long-burning candle that dripped on the desk, even in the bright morning sunshine. He was using the candle for making letter seals, not for light.

"What is all this?" she asked, a little amused. She set Lorette down; the cat ran to Marcel's feet where she nuzzled, happily purring.

"Correspondence. Recruitment." Marcel said bluntly, not looking up from his writing. "I'm contacting all the people I can. Robert and Toulouse. My old schoolmates who were half-blood or quarter-blood Enchanters, or _Sans-Magie_-born Enchanters. Even my Maman's _Sans-Magie_ husband, so I can warn him."

Adelaide sighed sadly. "Resistance war plans?"

"Yes. Could you help seal these envelopes for me, Adelaide? I have many more to write. There are other names I've been trying to think of, but I can't remember them all." He put both hands on his temples for a moment in stress, and Adelaide could see the fresh cuts on his face and eye from his broom crash.

"How are you feeling?" She pulled up a chair at the desk next to him, and they clasped hands.

"Not too bad, just sore all over. That was quite a wipeout. I've suffered worse."

"That's true."

"Thank goodness for my sister and those tea cloths of hers," he said. "If I don't heal, you can call me Scarface."

"I will never call you that! You're a tough man. Just don't be afraid to let a woman take care of you."

She leaned over to give his cheek a kiss before she picked up the little circular seal mold, along with one of the envelopes. Each had a name he'd written on it, some had both a name and a location. His handwriting was heavily slanted to the right, small, pointed, and angular, as if he were in a hurry and wanted to alert as many of his allies as fast as possible.

"Just drip the wax on the envelope and press the seal mold to it to close it. Make sure it has one of the letters inside first."

"I _know_ how to do this, silly. I used to seal letters when I was a girl, helping my Papa. Are all the letters the same message?" Adelaide asked, sealing one letter.

"Yes," he replied. Adelaide glanced at one of them and caught the words 'Resistance,' '_Le __Ministère_,' and the phrase 'join the fight.' He'd signed his name on the bottom.

"Did you write the same letter fifty times over, or did you...you know?"

"I admit, it was the 'you know.' There's a nice little charm called '_Multiplier'_ that I used." He gave her a mischievous smile, holding three of the letters up. "Saved me ink and hand cramps. So yes, I did just a little bit of magic in this room. It's a secret, don't tell. I'm trying hard not to do too much of it."

"Do you think Sauvageon is-"

"Adelaide, _please_!" he said with exasperation. "I don't know. I don't want to _think_ about him right now. All I know is that Agathe said she has things under control."

"I'm sorry," said Adelaide.

"I don't mean to be short tempered, forgive me. I talked to her again this morning by Summons. I'm going to her hideout soon to see Aloysius, but first I need to get these messages out. Monsieur Cogsworth kindly let me use his office supplies."

"How can you mail them, if you don't have their exact addresses?" Adelaide asked him.

"Birds," Marcel replied.

"_Really_?"

"_Oui._ We deliver post by birds. Pigeons, owls, doves. Guess how my sister fell in love with Lumiere?"

"How?" Adelaide asked.

Marcel's smile widened; he reached for her hand again and intertwined his fingers with hers. "You'll just have to ask Plumette and Lumiere to tell you the whole story."

"All right," Adelaide laughed. She began to seal the envelopes, curious about the names written on them. "Who is Professeur Jean-Pierre Pepin?"

"My favorite teacher. He taught the Magical Creatures class. He was a pure-blood Enchanter himself, but he was always a supporter for partial-blood wizards' rights."

"Are you certain he's still a supporter for partial-blood rights? What if the Minister influenced him and he started hating?" she asked. "If you send him a letter like this...what if he's your _enemy_ now?"

Marcel closed his eyes wearily and set his pen down. "Hard to believe, remembering Pepin and how nice he was, but- _damn_!" He glanced out the window. "There's a curse called '_Commander l'Esprit.' _It's forced mind control. I wouldn't be surprised if Bertrand's using it on people to force them to do what he dictates, especially the teachers at the Académie! _Merde_!" Marcel cursed in frustration as he looked down at all his letters. "If any of these people were put under it and I send them a message, I'm dead. _Literally_ dead."

"Marcel-"

"I'm sorry, Adelaide, I don't want to scare you. But you may have saved my life just now from your question! I _can't_ just send messages to random acquaintances I haven't actually seen for years!" He swept most of the letters aside. "_Forget_ these people. For now it will be only Robert, Toulouse, my mother in London, my aunt's husband there, my African grandfather in Senegal, and his brother too, my other uncle. And Claude Desjardins, my friend. He's for sure a _Sans-Magie_ born wizard. He works with creatures."

"Creatures?" Adelaide said.

"_Oui._ If I can't contact Professeur Pepin," Marcel reasoned to her, "Claude can be my contact for powerful Magical creatures."

"You think you can use creatures to fight _Le __Ministère_?" Adelaide asked, intrigued. She felt a little better about herself, for thinking to ask about whether or not he could trust the professor.

"I hope so. _Le __Ministère_ uses creatures for their terror these days. I never want to see another _Centipedes Gras_ as long as I live!"

"A _Centipedes Gras_?" Adelaide said, cringing. "I can tell what that is, just by the name! Exactly...how big?"

Marcel answered by stretching both of his arms out to indicate four or five feet long. He used his hands to show her the creatures' girth. "They were this big around. With hideous black bristle legs."

"I think I'd faint if I saw one."

"Toulouse fried one to a crisp when we escaped. It was the most satisfying animal death I'd ever witnessed." He picked up Lorette and snuggled her. "Not that I want to remind _our_ animal friend about that."

"Lorette doesn't understand you. She's just a cat."

"I believe she understands every word! You love me too, don't you Lorette?" She purred louder. "See?" He gave her a teasing grin.

"Marcel, she's more yours than she is mine. I'm jealous. If it weren't for _you,_ she would have died a miserable death by drowning."

"And if it weren't for _you_, Adelaide, I'd be...just miserable, I guess." He gazed at her with intensity burning in his dark brown eyes.

"I love you," Adelaide whispered, a lump forming in her throat simply from how much she loved the man sitting before her, busily sorting letters. They were actually having a simple, mundane moment together. She wished that times like this would last.

He pulled her closer from her chair and they kissed, slowly and softly.

"Adelaide, would you like to see a flock of birds come to the castle grounds and pick up the messages?" Marcel asked her after they broke their kiss.

"Yes. It sounds like a miracle."

"Not a miracle, only enchantment." He gathered the letters to the people he'd chosen as safe, and they left the room and walked down a few flights of stairs. On the way down they found Lumiere and Plumette, walking arm in arm. The other couple joined them outside on the balustrade of the castle's front staircase, overlooking the grounds and floral gardens.

"My Plumette! This staircase railing is the exact place where the birds would bring the letters from you!" exclaimed Lumiere. "And of course I would send mine from here."

"Monsieur Lumiere," Adelaide asked the gentleman, "Marcel told me to ask you both how you first fell in love. Did it have something to do with the birds delivering messages?"

"_Oui,_ Adelaide. We were pen pals after we'd met in Paris as young teenagers," said Plumette. "Marcel was just a little boy then, but he Enchanted the birds so we could stay in touch."

"Behind our mother's back," said Marcel. "I was very naughty."

Adelaide and Marcel set the messages on the staircase railing. Within moments, a small flock of white doves came in from the western sky. They descended upon the letters with loud flutters of beating wings. Each letter fastened itself to a bird's leg. The flock took off into the skies, most of them heading westward toward Paris while a few veered south.

"Marcel, a few birds are flying south, and not west toward Paris," said Adelaide. "Do they know the right way?"

"Yes, they do. Not all of the messages are going to Paris or to the east. Two are going to my and Plumette's grandfather and uncle in Africa, remember?"

"Of course! That's amazing!" said Adelaide, watching the flocks of birds diminish to points of grey in the blue sky.

"Did you send one to Maman as well?" Plumette asked Marcel, who nodded affirmatively.

"Yes, Jacinta. Now that Maman's in London, she'll contact the English Enchanters. There have to be some who want to help Magical French people who are oppressed. This may result in a war between Enchanted England and France, but I hope it won't come to that," Marcel said. "Now to wait, to hear back from as many allies as possible."

The two couples skipped down the staircase, each hand in hand. They strolled through the fragrant rose garden, still blooming and fragrant in autumn. Agathe was there. She stood among the roses wearing her elegant green and gold gown.

"Agathe, I was hoping to meet with you today. How's Monsieur Aloysius?" Marcel asked her.

"Please follow me," she replied. "I can show you to the secret hidden cottage. You can pay Aloysius a visit. He's feeling better."

Adelaide's heart leaped at the fact she could see her friend well again.

...


	19. A Parlor Game

Chapter 19- A Parlor Game

…

Agathe led the four of them into a grassy clearing near the edge of the forest. She raised her hand to the empty air, causing shimmers of white light to appear in the tall, rectangular shape of a door. Within a moment, an actual wooden door appeared before them. Agathe pulled the knob, went inside, and beckoned the others to follow.

Adelaide was charmed by the secret little house as soon as she and the others walked in. It was furnished and decorated very well, reminding her of the things that Aloysius had conjured up to furnish his room at the hotel before. They crossed through a kitchen where a cauldron sat on a small iron stove, entering a quaint and cozy bedroom.

Aloysius sat up in bed among plush white pillows, wearing a red-and-white striped nightshirt. His greying hair was untied and fell in long strands over his shoulders, but other than that, Adelaide recognized her friend.

"Monsieur Aloysius!"

"Adelaide, my dear!" Aloysius greeted, a tired smile on his face. "It is good to see you again."

"I'm so happy to see you alive!" she said joyfully.

"And I am glad to see _you_ reunited with this dear boy. Marcel- please do not torture yourself over this any longer," Aloysius added, his gaze fixing with concern on the man who'd put him into this state.

"I'll try not to," Marcel said, relief in his expression. "I'm very happy you're recovering. Thank you, Agathe for all you've done," he told her.

"I'm feeling better with each hour, and my cousin did wonders for me," Aloysius replied. "My own potion is to be trusted, after all." He looked to Lumiere and Plumette. "Who is _this_ fine looking pair? I can tell right away whose daughter you are, Madame. You are as lovely as your mother."

"_Merci,_" Plumette replied.

"Aloysius, I'm glad to finally introduce my sister and brother-in-law to you," said Marcel. "This is Jacinta, but she likes to be called Plumette. And this is her husband, Monsieur Lumiere."

"I am glad to meet you, Monsieur," said Plumette. "You have become a friend of my Maman's, I have been told."

"Indeed. She speaks of you so fondly, regarding how compassionate and..._forgiving_ you are." At the word 'forgiving' Aloysius' gaze went to Agathe, almost subconsciously. Agathe noticed her cousin's very subtle hint of reproach. She lowered her eyes to the floor.

"What he has said is true," Agathe said in a very quiet voice, looking to Plumette and Lumiere. "And I have never, ever asked for your forgiveness directly, eye to eye, personally. I have done so only with your Master Adam at the castle."

"You _have_ our forgiveness, Mademoiselle," Plumette replied.

"After all, there _were_ fifty-seven of us!" said Lumiere in a lighthearted tone. "You would have had to meet with each of us, one at a time, to apologize for the curse. What you have done for us with your actions- your practical help- has done more for us as a staff than just mere words!"

"Mademoiselle Agathe made a new carriage road through the forest to make it easier for travelers from Villeneuve to come up to the castle. And last winter, she always cleared the snow on the trails," Plumette explained.

Agathe and Marcel exchanged guilty glances at each other, both realizing what the other was thinking. Agathe knew that she had incriminated herself by doing such favors for Prince Adam and his household. Likewise, Marcel knew that he'd used his now-lost Magic Mirror in the past to prove such activities to Sauvageon- while pretending to be on Agathe's side.

"_Ahem_!" Lumiere cleared his throat, detecting the bit of tension that seemed to linger between some of the people in the tiny room. "Perhaps we should all sit down around Monsieur's bed, partake of a bottle of wine, and play a parlor game to get to know each other better? Charades, perhaps?"

"Why not? It sounds like fun. We used to play parlor games at the Académie," Marcel said.

"It does sound like a lovely idea," said Adelaide.

Aloysius pointed his finger at the small dressing vanity and two bottles of red wine and six glasses appeared. The bottles levitated and poured wine into each glass.

"Could you make one of the glasses milk or water rather than wine?" Marcel asked. "I...um, I don't drink."

"You're so disgustingly _pure_," said Adelaide as they shared a bench seat near the dressing vanity. "I learn more and more about you every day, and each thing I learn, I love."

When the glasses were filled and floated about the room, Adelaide gladly took some wine and began to drink it, while Marcel settled for a glass of cold water. She gave him a guilty little look, thinking that she was partaking in a vice he didn't approve of. She set the glass down.

"Adelaide, you're _fine_," he whispered to her. "Nothing wrong or immoral about drinking wine. I just don't like the taste, that's all."

"It's more than just that. I can tell when you have bigger reasons than you say, Marcel," she whispered back. "You were averting my eyes just now. You're hiding your thoughts."

"I'm _not_ hiding my thoughts!"

"Are you two all right?" Lumiere said loudly, noticing what seemed to be bickering in whispers between the newly-established couple. "Ah, _ç'est mignon!_ You are having your first quarrel!" He and Plumette looked at Marcel and Adelaide in adoration, as if they were both one year old infants taking their first steps.

"Actually, it's our second. Maybe our third? We're experts at bickering already," said Adelaide, with a lighthearted giggle. Her laughter made Marcel do the same; he wrapped his arm around her as they burst into chuckles together, their moment of accusations set aside.

"Our fourth or more, if you count the time before my imprisonment. When you said I should have stopped in the village during the coach ride? And then we were stuck in the mud?" Marcel reminded her, catching his breath.

"Yes, I was very annoyed that you didn't stop in the village, because Clémence had morning sickness!" Adelaide recalled. "Wait! Remember when Gaston lifted the entire stagecoach out of the mud and he was so proud of his strength? You helped him with that, didn't you, Marcel?"

Marcel gave her a knowing smile in affirmation. "Yes."

Agathe raised an eyebrow at him. "You did not use the better road to the castle. The one I conjured. I think you chose the old carriage trail just to spite me."

"You're right."

"Well, then!" said Lumiere, clapping his hands together to get the Enchanters' attention. "I have a more interesting idea! Instead of charades, I suggest we play 'Truth or Dare!'" he exclaimed.

At his suggestion, Plumette and Adelaide gave him an abashed look. The three Magical people looked downright confused.

"What exactly is 'Truth or Dare?'" Aloysius asked from his bed, a wine glass cradled in his knobby fingers.

Lumiere explained the concept to them, and though Marcel and Aloysius looked amused, Agathe seemed hesitant.

"If you don't want to answer the question, Mademoiselle Agathe, simply dare one of us to...er, remove a piece of clothing, something like that," Lumiere said to her.

"Francois!" Plumette scolded, but her eyes were sparkling with mirth.

"I am willing, then," Agathe decided with a bit of a proud smirk on her face. "After all, as you can see I am wearing three necklaces and four rings, not to mention...my hat." She waved a finger and a beribboned green hat appeared on her head. "You may dare me up to seven times."

"Very well, then!" Lumiere said. "Since I suggested the game, I offer to be the first victim. Someone present me with a question. The more embarrassing, the better. Although it ought to be someone _besides_ my lovely wife, as she knows me inside and out."

"I have one," said Aloysius good-naturedly. "Tell me the most foolish thing you have ever done, Monsieur Lumiere."

"Gladly. When I was sixteen years old- shortly before I met Plumette- I asked a girl named Angelique to be my date for the elder Prince's springtime ball. She turned me down. I asked another girl, and she accepted. I truly wanted to be Angelique's escort and dance mainly with her, however. I learned that Monsieur Chapeau had asked Angelique as well. She accepted _him_. So...well, I sabotaged him. I stole some syrup of ipepac from the larder. I put it in his soup at lunch, before the evening of the dance. He appeared to become sick to his stomach, and so he told me- as his good 'friend'- that he could not go. That evening, I put on the exact same kind of white wig, and blue and silver mask that Chapeau was planning to wear! Luckily, it was a masquerade ball. I pretended to be him for hours, dancing with Angelique on my tiptoes for several rounds of the minuet, trying to speak with a deeper voice, while poor Veronique sat out many dances because she could not find me. I had lied to her, saying I was going to pour a drink or go to the loo. The usual excuses. Whenever I spoke to Veronique, I switched the blue mask for a red one, and I pulled my wig off so she could see the distinctive blond curls I used to have in my younger days. I kept switching my wig and masks back and forth. Quite exhausting!"

"That's kind of mean, Monsieur Lumiere," Adelaide opined with a hurt look.

In contrast, Marcel appeared to enjoy the man's story. Agathe, however, made a face that looked as if she were severely sick to her stomach herself, but the others were so focused on Lumiere they did not notice her.

Lumiere continued his tale of teenage deceit. "I was having a wonderful time dancing with Angelique. After an hour, my head itched beneath the wig. I began to scratch it until the blue mask fell from my face! Veronique was sitting nearby that very moment and she spotted me holding Angelique's hands. She threw the biggest fit of wrath a jilted girl could have ever performed!"

Agathe's eyes widened with discomfort at this statement. She looked as if she wanted to argue a point with the jovial _Sans-Magie_ servant, but decided to remain quiet.

"-Chapeau refused to be friends with me for three months afterward, until we made up. By then, Veronique had fallen for Jacques, the chef's assistant. They are still married to this day! And I had moved from desperately loving Angelique, to truly loving a certain sweet Parisian girl." He grinned at his wife. "Now. Mademoiselle Agathe. Your turn. Tell me...what was the name of the gentleman you first kissed?"

Agathe's face turned as white as a January morning. A look of almost terror haunted her eyes. Silently and slowly, she untied the ribbon of her green hat with elegant hands and set it in her lap.

"All right. _I'd _like to ask a question," Plumette said, breaking the tension of Agathe's secret discomfort. "I would like my dear brother to tell Adelaide what he used to-" she paused- "name his pets. And what kinds of creatures his pets were."

"_That's_ the most embarrassing question you can think of? It's not that bad," said Marcel, clearly relieved. "I had _Peluche Balles_ when I was a boy. They're magical creatures that look like what their name describes. Furry colored balls with faces that looked like a mouse's face. No limbs or tails. I had a pink one, and then a blue one. I named them...uh, Rose-Pierre and Bleu-Pierre."

Adelaide's face lit with adoration. "That has to be the cutest thing I have ever heard in my life!" she exclaimed. "A mouse with a furry, colorful ball body? That sounds strange. Maybe you can show me one someday."

"I'd love to show you one, and let you hold one if I can. Just keep Lorette away," Marcel said, his teasing grin returning.

"The names you gave them are precious. It sounds like how I'd imagine you when you were little," said Adelaide. Marcel threw his arm over his face in humorous mock embarrassment. Adelaide leaned her head on his shoulder lovingly.

"Adelaide, perhaps _you_ should ask one of us a question," said Aloysius.

"It's hard for me to think of one, but here goes. Aloysius- have you ever been in love? And...what was her name?"

It was the older wizard's turn to look uncomfortable. He glanced at his feet beneath the quilt for a few seconds before speaking.

"I was just considering the idea of removing one of my socks, but I will be brave. Yes, Adelaide, I was in love once. Her name was Celie, and she died in the Plague of Paris."

Audible sighs of sympathy came from all of them. Agathe, who had known her cousin all his life, gave him a questioning look. "Can I tell the others about her?" she asked.

"You may," said Aloysius in a quiet voice.

"Celie was a very sweet and kind girl. And she even looked a little like Mademoiselle Adelaide here, as I can recall," Agathe said, glancing at the young woman at Marcel's side. "It just wasn't fair how the rest of our family treated you because of her! I wish I could have _done_ something to cure her illness, but there was nothing in the spellbooks I studied that dealt with diseases like that."

"I think she is the reason I became so apt at creating and inventing healing potions," said Aloysius. "And after her death, I could never love another in the same way."

"She was..._Sans-Magie_?" Marcel asked Aloysius in a tentative voice. Aloysius nodded.

"That makes three of us," Agathe said suddenly, revealing a willingness to open up a bit more. "All three Magicals here in this room. We have all desired someone _Sans-Magie_ instead of another Enchanter. For me, however, it was more infatuation than love, and nothing came of it. Before you ask- I'd rather not share his name. And later, I was too obsessed with my odd double life between both worlds, my intense studies of spells, to fall in _true_ love with any man. Marriage was never in the stars for me."

The other five people looked at her with empathy, nodding, as all the previous humor and levity in the room faded.

"I appreciate your honesty, Mademoiselle Agathe," Marcel said. "Honesty is a trait I value more than anything." He looked at Adelaide and clearly became nervous, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Adelaide, um," he faltered, "I'd like to..I'd like to ask you a question that's um, kind of serious. About us. Do you love me enough...to promise to share your life with me? I mean with absolute certainty? Because I _do_ wish to marry you."

Adelaide's look of pensiveness faded into blushing joy at his words.

"Marcel! Yes, truly yes, I wish to marry you...that is, if it's even _possible_," she declared, her eyes welling up. The two of them threw their arms around each other in a fierce embrace. Plumette stifled an excited cry of happiness, her palms clapping over her mouth.

"I imagine-" said Lumiere tentatively, "-if you have your birth dates and your names with your parents' names and birthplaces, then, you could simply go to the priest at the little church in Villeneuve? That is what we did years ago, isn't that right, _ma cherie_? Although back then, it was a different priest than the one who is there now. It was some ancient old fellow who could barely read what we gave him. He was almost blind!"

"That is true, Francois. I remember everything about our wedding day!" said Plumette. "I encourage you both to do that. Do it the_ Sans-Magie_ way. Go to the village and inquire the priest at the church. And _oh_! Mrs. Potts and the scullery maids could bake you a cake. Madame de Garderobe or Stanley could sew you a white dress, Adelaide-"

"And we could throw another grand little party in the castle dining hall for you. With music by Garderobe and Cadenza, of course!" Lumiere added with enthusiasm.

The younger couple were taken aback by all the gushing attention from Lumiere and Plumette.

"I never meant to ask a formal proposal to you as early as today, Adelaide...I mean, I wanted to whenever we were _alone,_ but-" Marcel lowered his eyes to the floor with bashful chagrin. "It just kind of came out."

"You mean you _didn't _just propose?" Adelaide asked, half-jokingly.

"Yes, I did," said Marcel, not wanting to deter from her joy. "Unexpectedly and impulsively, but yes." He gave her a bright smile and squeezed one of her hands. "And I'll ask once again to make it clear to you, my love. Will you marry me, Adelaide Fortier?"

"Yes, I _will_ marry you, Marcel Clement. Whether next week or years from now!"

They kissed with such warmth, such sweetness, that Plumette was in seventh heaven along with them. "My baby brother is truly a man now!" she gushed.

Aloysius raised his glass of wine. "To the lovely betrothed couple!" The Lumieres and Agathe, her green hat still in her lap, raised their glasses.

"I thought we were still playing this 'Truth or Dare' game," said Agathe with a kind smile. "But I'm pleased that the flow of conversation has led to a very happy turn of events. I am guessing we're no longer playing?"

"Not if you have grown tired of it, Mademoiselle Agathe," said Lumiere. "Forgive me for asking you something you were not comfortable with."

"You _are_ forgiven," said Agathe.

"I'm relieved, since I haven't been asked an embarrassing question yet," Plumette said.

"The one you asked me didn't count, Jacinta," said Marcel. "My _Peluche Balles_? Really?" He fixed his sister with an inquisitive gaze. "May I ask you if you ever told Maman about me helping you run away? Because I never worked up the nerve to confess to her that I cast a Levitation spell on you, or charmed those birds to be post-carrier birds. I should have told her, but I was ashamed. I mean, it's _Maman!_"

"_Mon petit,_ I never wanted to get you in trouble. But even if we both told her, we lost the chance because of what happened...to us in the castle." Plumette's gaze went to Agathe for a split second. "And now...over the last year or so, it's so far in the past."

"Thank you, Jacinta," Marcel said thoughtfully. "Adelaide...since my question to you was really just an excuse to propose to you, I'd like you to share the most evil thing _you've_ ever done in your life," he challenged Adelaide in a playful tone.

"Well...I snuck and ate cupcakes in the Marquis and Marquess' kitchen. That could be considered stealing," said Adelaide.

"Eating cupcakes? That's the most evil thing you've ever done?" Marcel said in disbelief.

"They weren't my cupcakes!"

"Adelaide!"

"I used Lady Evangeline's makeup to put on Emilie. That was sort of stealing, also."

"I give up. There must something naughty you did as a little girl, at least!" Marcel said in exasperation. "I'm going to keep asking until you confess. For Merlin's sake, here's all the things _I'm_ guilty of- I almost killed two men with curses, I used magic to help my sister defy our mother behind her back, I borrowed my friend's Invisible Ink to cheat on at least three exams in school, _and_ I hexed a boy named Falco by freezing his nose."

"And Robert." Agathe interjected. "You hexed Robert by freezing his…"

"Yes, that too. I froze Robert's...vital organs."

Lumiere gave a nervous laugh, rubbing his mustache and crossing his legs. "I would never want to anger you, Monsieur, that is an absolute certainty!"

Adelaide was looking stressed as she tried to recall things she'd done that were evil. "I drowned spiders...and once I yelled at Emilie and made her cry. Well, many times, not just once," she recalled.

"That is getting somewhere. Sibling rivalry is always full of regrets," said Plumette with a smile.

"I'll keep thinking," said Adelaide. "I know there's other bad things. Perhaps I just pushed them down in my deepest memory. Out of guilt."

"I wish I had siblings myself," said Lumiere wistfully. "I suppose that is why Henry Cogsworth is such a dear friend, he is the older brother I never had."

"I have an older brother," Agathe said quietly. "We are not on the best terms anymore. He _and_ his son."

"But Agathe," said Aloysius, his expression sleepy as he reclined in bed, "who needs foolish old Auguste when you have _me_?"

"True. So very true," Agathe said as she reached over to clasp her beloved cousin's arm. "You ought to rest. As good as it is to have all four of you here, we should give him some peace and quiet now."

"Yes! So good to meet you, _mon ami_!" said Lumiere, standing with Plumette and the others. The castle's _maître d'_ was the first person to approach Aloysius' bedside and shake his hand.

"Good to meet you, and your lovely wife!" Aloysius said cheerfully. "I swear on Merlin's hat you look just like dear Sabine, Madame Plumette. Or Jacinta."

"_Merci_," said Plumette.

Lumiere grinned. "Aloysius...er, that is now the _second_ time you have mentioned my mother in law's beauty. I could also swear on Merlin's hat...that you hold a fancy to her, no?" he teased.

"Only from afar," Aloysius said sincerely. "The lady Sabine is married, after all." He accepted a hug from Adelaide, as well as from Marcel.

"Please take care of yourself. Keep taking that healing potion," Marcel admonished as he leaned over Aloysius.

"Of course, I shall." The bedridden wizard waved his guests _adieu_ and went to sleep. Agathe sat by his side for a long time afterward. Then, she quietly searched for and picked up the Magic Mirror that belonged to her cousin.

"Show me...Alexis," she whispered, once she was certain that Aloysius was asleep.

...


	20. The Crystal Ball

Chapter 20- The Crystal Ball

…

Agathe watched the Magic Mirror swirl in a kaleidoscope of colors and forms, until it cleared to reveal her nephew, Alexis Sauvageon.

He was no longer locked down in _La Maison des Crimes_ _Noirs_. He sat in an elegant office across the desk from his 'Lord Minister.' Agathe cringed as she beheld Alexis' boss with his cue-ball head and bug-eyed stare. The first thing she wondered was why the Minister hadn't fired him permanently as a result of his failure to stop the jailbreak.

Bertrand was not the only man in Alexis' presence. Nicolas Roux had recovered perfectly well from Sabine's curse, and the three men were having what looked like an informal meeting. Upon the dark wooden desk, Bertrand's stubby fingers caressed the surface of his crystal ball. There was something odd about his demeanor, Agathe thought, as if he were in a trance, or not quite present in mind.

Agathe enlarged the Mirror again and took a very close look at the Minister's large, buggy pale blue eyes. They looked unusually white around the irises, strangely unblinking.

"I can learn about everything with this crystal ball, Sauvageon!" Bertrand said, a sense of naive excitement in his voice. "It answers questions! It shows you people if you say their names!"

"Is that so? How brilliant of you, My Lord Minister!" Sauvageon praised him. Agathe saw him glance over at Roux for a moment, giving his colleague a conspiring wink.

"Perhaps you could ask it who the Minister of Enchanted France will be in ten years?" Sauvageon suggested. "It _could_ still be you."

"Who will be Minister in ten years?" Bertrand asked the ball without the slightest hesitation that it may not be something he'd be happy to know.

The name 'Andre Tomas Rosier' flashed across the ball, along with the image of a relatively young fellow, dressed smartly with a white cravat wound around his neck.

"I don't know that man! So I won't be Minister then?" Bertrand shouted petulantly.

Roux and Sauvageon looked at one another in questioning while Bertrand scowled in anger. "I have not met him formally, but I know the name. He's young, not a contemporary of mine," said Roux. "Do _you_ know him, Alexis?"

"Yes, I met him once or twice, and each time he was with...Clement. They were school friends apparently," said Sauvageon with irritation. "But he's one of the Rosiers, so a good family at least."

"Kill him!" Minister Bertrand demanded.

"We'll put him on our execution list, do not be concerned," said Roux in a placating tone. "Shall we ask the crystal ball some more questions?" he added, still speaking to Bertrand as if he were a child in need of entertainment. He reached across to the shorter, older Minister's shoulder. Agathe saw him flick his wand at Bertrand when he wasn't looking. The moment he did so, Bertrand slumped in his chair, falling into a deep sleep.

Agathe realized for certain that somehow, Sauvageon and Roux had taken control of their own leader and cursed his mind, likely as retaliation for whatever punishment Bertrand had given them for their past failures. The two had either turned him into a child mentally, put him under their will, or both. Clearly, the two officers were no longer loyal subjects of the Minister.

"So, then. Roux!" Sauvageon said to his colleague, after Bertrand was out cold. He flicked his brand-new wand and conjured two wine glasses for himself and Roux. "Choose a more innocuous subject just for the fun of it. Next Sunday's weather, perhaps. Or the winner of today's game."

"An innocuous subject it is," said Roux. He lazily gazed at the large, moonlike, translucent white ball, which sat upon an ornamental brass plate on Bertrand's desk. "Who will win today's _Boule de Plume_ match? The _Faucons de Paris_ or London's team?"

The cloudy surface of the crystal ball turned into moving pictures and scenes. A rowdy group of men in _Boule de Plume_ cloaks emblazoned with the British flag were celebrating. They yelled in triumph, embracing and whooping, their brooms in hand. As more teammates landed on the ground and dismounted their brooms, they rushed to their star player, a young redheaded fellow with an ear-to-ear grin. He received embraces and shoulder-slaps on all sides.

At the other end of the pitch, players in royal blue cloaks with _fleur-de-lis_ insignia stood stony faced and disappointed. Boos and unhappy noises were heard from the crowd of Parisians in the bleachers.

"Naturally," said Roux. "The _Faucons_' defense has been weak lately. They need to get rid of Falco Lestrange. Terrible goalkeeper, he's like a sieve."

"They wouldn't get rid of him. His family is like royalty around here. No offense to you and your great pureblood family spread across Europe, My Lord," Sauvageon mumbled to the sleeping Minister. "I wonder who that triumphant player is for the British?"

"Let's find out," said Roux. "Who is London's most valuable player?"

The name 'Winston Prewett' flashed over the footage of the red-haired man. "Interesting," Alexis said in nonchalance.

"Good for Winston Prewett, I suppose," Roux said lazily.

"Why don't we learn some more important things? This is our chance to perhaps change history and make ourselves all knowing. Why waste time?" Sauvageon said, glancing over at Bertrand with a bit of contempt before staring back at the ball. "Crystal Ball, show me the greatest, most heroic and accomplished Enchanters of all history. Past, present, and future," he declared.

The scene of _Boule de Plume _players vanished, and the first face that appeared in the crystal ball was a bearded fellow wearing clothing from the medieval period. He was a slim and small-framed man, his eyes filled with wisdom.

The two men gasped, awestruck, for they were actually looking upon the living face of the long-deceased legend himself. _Merlin._

"Great-" Roux began to say, but Sauvageon scowled.

"Don't be sacrilegious!" he warned. "I'll never sully his name from now on," he added with respect towards the ancient wizard of olden days.

A second face appeared; this man was shown at various ages, because it seemed as if this great Enchanter also enjoyed great longevity. In youth, he was an attractive boy with longish, auburn hair and piercing blue eyes. In middle age, he was bearded and still appeared quite handsome. And in very old age, he was crowned in white hair and a long snowy beard, wearing a delicate pair of spectacles. His countenance suggested a very intelligent and mysterious mind. Dates in the far future appeared, marking his lifespan. This wizard would not be born for another hundred years or so, and he would then live for over an entire century after that. His name was rather funny-sounding to the three men, undoubtedly English.

"Amazing!" Roux said in intrigue. "So far into the future- and to think that wizardkind will still exist into the 1900s and beyond! Impressive and wise looking man this one was. So, who is another great wizard?" he asked in curiosity.

A third face appeared on the crystal ball. This one was also first shown as a mere teenage boy, a very ordinary looking boy with dark hair and spectacles. He aged gracefully, and in each stage of life this man's eyes told an unknown tale of grit, determination, and above all, bravery. The oracle's flashing words and dates revealed that this great wizard wouldn't be born to the Enchanted world for another two whole centuries. And like the previous two, the third man was revealed to be English.

"English _again_?" said Roux in annoyance. "No Frenchmen or any other nationality? I detect a bias here."

"Either the English truly are better Enchanters, Roux, or this crystal ball has some sort of love affair with that infernal island to our north," said Sauvageon. "Well, this was all interesting, and I would like to learn more about this English fellow of far future with his strange circular spectacles, but we need to get back to work. Shall we ask the ball for the whereabouts of some of our most wanted criminals?"

"Before we do that, Sauvageon, we should wake up the Minister. If we curse him too hard, he'll sense the passage of time and learn what we've done. We must still let him think he's in control, as annoying as that may be." Roux pointed his wand at Bertrand. "_Eveiller._" The man stirred and woke, rising in his chair while Roux conjured up a third glass of wine.

"Roux! What? Why do I feel so...Ahh, wine! _Merci,_ Officer!" Bertrand said as he lifted the goblet to drink.

"With your permission, My Lord Minister, may we consult the crystal ball for the locations of our most wanted?" Roux asked him in an attempt at respect.

"Not yet," said Bertrand in a whiny and juvenile tone. "I want to know more about those bad _Sans-Magies!_ I _hate_ those people! They're not magic. Magic is _good_! I like doing magic. I like changing the colors of my office with my wand. Want to _watch_ me?"

Sauvageon and Roux gave him an encouraging smile. "We'd love to watch you, My Lord! And do choose a good color!" Alexis said, in a tone one would usually hear from a mother of a five-year-old child.

Bertrand raised his wand and flicked it at the wallpaper, turning it from a cream color to a bright royal blue. "The color of the _Faucons!_" he exclaimed. Roux and Sauvageon clapped their hands to cheer.

"Guess what? I found out another terrible thing the _Sans-Magies_ are going to do years from now!" Bertrand exclaimed.

"What is that?" asked Sauvageon.

"They're going to kill their King and Queen! Send them to...a chopping block! Do you want to see more? Crystal Ball, show me more of that Revolution that's going to happen someday!"

Sauvageon and Roux held back their impatience, as Bertrand asked the crystal ball for more images of carnage in the future. It revealed that the _Sans-Magies_ of France would be declaring death on their leaders, as well as all nobility and highborn, in about fifteen years' time.

"That's reprehensible, My Lord!" said Sauvageon in mock horror. "How can the _Sans-Magies_ be so bloodthirsty?"

…

Agathe was still watching and observing the men in the Mirror. Nearby, Aloysius lay napping in his bed while she was engrossed in her spying. In order to view the images in the crystal ball more clearly, she'd enlarged Aloysius' Magic Mirror to five times its normal size.

When she learned of what was being spoken of and shown, her face paled. All _Sans-Magie_ nobility and highborn families? Sent to a terrible contraption made for beheading? This could not be!

"Aloysius-" she said in a tremulous voice. He did not wake.

She had to do something. She needed to secure the safety of Adam, Belle, their soon-to-be-born child, and children to come!

…

Sauvageon and Roux patiently waited for Bertrand to stop demanding the crystal ball for information about the _Sans-Magies_' overthrow of their royal government. After they'd seen many more disturbing images, Sauvageon waited for a lull in the Minister's childish ramblings and commentary.

"My Lord, Officer Roux and I need to use this crystal ball to help us find the hiding places of the criminals we need to catch. May we?" Alexis asked him politely.

"All right. Let's find them!" said Bertrand with an eager grin.

…

Agathe stood to her feet for several moments and held her hands aloft.

With all of her energy and focus, her eyes scrunched in concentration, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, she let out a stream of spell words. Energy, in the visible form of heat waves, emanated from her hands.

The magical protection charms spread from the cottage she and Aloysius were abiding in, to the outer grounds of Adam and Belle's castle. The light and energy and power radiated over the entire castle, the grounds and forests, even reaching the village of Villeneuve. A second, even greater Shield Charm had been set into place, as well as Invisibility and Concealment against all souls who wished harm upon anyone within the region's borders. These charms were strong enough to remain in place for years to come, until Agathe made the decision to remove them herself.

As Agathe set the charms and enchantments, fragrant bouquets of roses appeared in the room. A vase filled with the blossoms was conjured next to her; she reached out to touch a delicate red petal. In the next room where Aloysius napped, roses materialized around him on the table beside his bed, and in an elaborate vase on the corner. The fragrance woke him; he stirred and opened his eyes to see his room filled with roses of red and white.

Outside in the gardens of the castle, the dead roses from the previous summer came alive and bloomed once more. And even along the great stone walls of the castle itself, plants and foliage began to grow. Rose bushes and vines of ivy wound themselves up the castle to the turrets adding color, beauty, and most of all, Enchanted protection.

When she was finished, the Enchantress breathed a sigh of relief and exhaustion as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Aloysius!"

"What lovely roses, Agathe. I feel much better already!" said Aloysius, rising out of bed with renewed strength and getting himself fully dressed with just a flick of his finger. He joined Agathe at the sitting area and beheld his Magic Mirror, which she had enlarged.

"I've been spying on my nephew. I am so glad I did, Aloysius. Forgive me for using your Mirror without asking. I just finished casting some impenetrable and very strong charms over our castle, the grounds, and the village nearby. The roses are a visual assurance and symbol of my work. All who remain living beneath its area of Enchantment will be protected from harm and enemies as long as they remain here, and until I decide to remove it personally!"

"What kind of protections?"

"Great Shields, Concealment, and Knowledge-of-Time for myself, so when the year of danger comes for Prince Adam and Princess Belle, I will able to warn them ahead of time. And not only that, I was able to tamper with Bertrand's crystal ball just now! I set _Brouillard Déroutant _upon the ball as soon as I was able to view its images clearly. It is now under my influence. It will not give them information about us near this castle, beneath the protected zone. It will confuse and deceive them."

"Brilliant, Agathe! It is so good to know that you are using all your power to keep us safe! Thank you so very much!" said Aloysius gratefully.

…

Meanwhile, Sauvageon and Roux began to ask the crystal ball about the 'wanted' people on their list.

"Show us my aunt- Agathe Sauvageon! Where is she this very moment?" Alexis demanded.

The crystal ball swirled with what looked like fog and grey rain clouds. The men stared at it impatiently. Bertrand drummed his fingers on his desk and scowled. A minute passed. Five minutes. Nothing was seen inside the large magical sphere, except clouds.

"Perhaps she is dead?" Roux said in a hopeful whisper.

An image of something else came to view. Roses, red and white, their petals fluttering in a balmy breeze. Sunshine reflected off the white blossoms.

"Perhaps she _is_ dead!" Roux repeated with more assurance. "This is a sign, and perhaps the only way the ball can show someone's death in a respectable and decent manner. Let's ask it about someone else, Alexis. That other relative of yours, Aloysius," he said to Sauvageon with tension in his voice.

"Show us Aloysius Guérisseur," Alexis stated.

The ball's answer was the same. A close up view of roses fluttering in the sunshine and breeze.

"All right, let's try another. Marcel Clement! Where is Clement? Show him to us!" Alexis demanded. The ball did not change. It displayed nothing but the roses for several more minutes.

"Who killed them, if all three of them are dead?"

Immediately the image changed at the sound of his voice. The roses went away to be replaced by the same clouds they had seen before. Grey, swirling rain clouds and a mist of fog.

"What do those _clouds_ mean?" Bertrand asked, a frown on his entranced face, his manner of speaking still very childlike.

"I don't know! I have no idea!" said Alexis.

Nicolas Roux stared at the ball with confusion, his skin paling. "Where did you buy it, Sauvageon? You gave it to Lord Minister as a gift!"

"All I can recall was that I bought it from an oracle shop in Paris. The one next to that seedy pub, _Le Trou de Hydromel_. It was expensive. Worth half the gold in my bank account! The woman who sold it to me never said a _thing_ about how it works, other than that it predicts future events by year and place!"

"It's _broken_ if it doesn't show us what we ask!" hissed Bertrand.

"There are more criminals on the wanted list," said Roux. "What about Sabine? She needs justice for the cheap blows she and her friends pulled on me! Crystal Ball, show us the whereabouts of the criminal woman, Sabine-Marie Clement Djokoto!"

Finally, the crystal ball seemed to fix itself. The clouds went away and a clear image of actual people appeared once more. The aging, yet still lovely black lady appeared, along with another woman who resembled her. Sabine was among five people sitting around a simple and cozy dinner table. Besides the woman they guessed was her sister, a very dark-skinned bald fellow sat close to Sabine. He was likely her _Sans-Magie_ husband she'd taken to escape along with her. Across from them sat a pale, white middle-aged fellow, and a young girl either about twelve years old or in her early teens. The child appeared angry and upset.

...

"Monique, you are going to attend that school whether you like it or not!" the pale-skinned man, Edouard, said to the child sternly. "If you refuse, you will be grounded. No chance to meet any new friends around the neighborhood. No gifts for a year. No new toys or clothes, no-"

"Yes, Papa," Monique said in a tiny, defeated voice, her eyes lowered to her dinner plate and reddening with tears as she crossed her arms around herself. "I'm just afraid. I'm afraid they'll make fun of me for being a French émigrée. I can't speak or understand enough English yet."

"_Ma petite_, there will be many other French children starting there as well," said her mother, Celeste, gently. "And I am sure there will be many teachers to help you pick up the language, and translators. They have Translation Charms that will give you the French words while the teachers are lecturing. You will do just as wonderfully in the new school as you did in the old one, honey."

"Your mother's right," said Sabine. "I believe in you, child." Monique gave her aunt a hopeful little smile.

…

"Disgusting," said Roux. "Not only did she assault and impersonate me, but she's a blood traitor! All of the intermarriage and intermingling! Two of the five people in that room are _Sans-Magie_! Sabine's sister is a Defective. And her second husband, the African fellow next to her? A pure _Sans-Magie _who carves furniture with his hands and tools, a mere peasant!"

"These are Marcel Clement's relatives, you realize," said Alexis. "If he's dead, and we are watching them in real time, wouldn't they be mourning him? Instead of placating that child about starting a new school? Sabine would be crying her eyes out if her precious son is dead!"

"Perhaps they don't know yet. He may have been just killed today," said Roux. "We sent some officers out on brooms and flying carriages with quality Mirrors for surveillance. If one of them got him, we'll be getting a report soon."

"What did all those _roses_ mean?" asked Bertrand.

"My Lord, I am certain they were a symbol of those people's demise," replied Roux. "Roses on graves, I say! The Crystal Ball wishes to respect the dead. So to me it was a _clear_ sign that Clement, Agathe, and Aloysius Guérisseur have all been liquidated!" Roux grinned smugly; he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"What does that mean?" asked Bertrand.

"'Liquidated' means dead and destroyed, my Lord Minister."

"Good! They're dead!" said Minister Bertrand, his mouth widening and crackling with glee. "You have to get Sabine though. Can you _get_ her?"

"Unfortunately," said Alexis, "if they were discussing the girl starting a new Magical school, and she was fretting about not understanding English, that gives us a clue that they went to England." He spoke to the crystal ball again. "Where exactly _are_ Sabine and her family members right now? Proclaim the name of the city or nation!"

The ball communicated its answer in perfect clarity. In white letters, 'London, England' was spelled out. "I guessed correctly," Alexis said, a frown forming on his face.

"_Damn!_" Roux cursed. "She's out of the country, out of our jurisdiction. We cannot touch her. Only the British Ministry can, and I doubt they wish to work with us."

"What about that boy? The one who was so fond of cursing us with swarms of bees?" Alexis said, trying to overcome his disappointment over Sabine's safe escape. "Toulouse Alain Granger! Show him to us immediately!"

The crystal ball obeyed. The young man named Toulouse Granger appeared. He was in a small, cramped room, likely the sparse kitchen and sitting room combination of an apartment in the Second or Third Quartier neighborhoods- the humble parts of the city.

"Location name?" Sauvageon asked, and the ball declared, _'Paris. 1105 Rue Madeleine. First floor apartment.'_

Toulouse was accompanied by a petite woman in her late forties to fifty, and a large burly man somewhere in his mid-thirties to forty. Alexis' eyes widened in recognition of the other man. Even though his beard was trimmed, his hair clean and neatly tied back in a ribbon, his clothing tidy- it was none other than Robert Lefebrve. The frightful werewolf!

"We have _two_ wanted criminals together in the same place! And they are still in this city! Progress, My Lord Minister! We can get them!" Alexis shouted in triumph.

"_Oui_, yes!" exclaimed Bertrand, holding up his empty wine glass.

"Let me Summon my squad," said Alexis, his spirits returning. He stood from his chair and paced around the elegant office, shouting the full names of the execution squad members under his thumb. "Henri-Louis Broussard! Cyrus Rousseau! Ananias-Leon DuMarre!"

The three soldiers of death appeared in the room via the Summons Charm, only their heads and shoulders visible. "What is it, Officer Sauvageon? Do you have urgent news?" said Rousseau, the one in the middle.

"Wonderful news for the three of you," said Alexis in triumph. "I found where your betrayer is hiding. Your ex-friend and former _Frère d'Armes._ LeLoup! Also known as Robert Lefebrve!"

"LeLoup? Where? Let us at him!" barked both DuMarre and Broussard with wolfish grins.

Alexis and Roux pointed out the crystal ball with the address, _1105 Rue Madeleine, Paris,_ emblazoned in its sphere.

"We can't read," growled DuMarre.

"Eleven oh-five Rue Madeleine!" Alexis shouted in exasperation. "Do you know where that is, you illiterate beasts? Find the house and kill LeLoup! Kill everyone he's with! That's an order!"

"Officer- uh, can we wait until three nights from now? The full moon will be on Friday. I mean, you know. We will be at our deadliest on that night!" said Rousseau.

"But LeLoup will also be transformed, just the same as you!"

"That will be even _better_!" DuMarre growled. "A werewolf fight to the death. Three against one!"

Sauvageon relented. He knew how difficult a three-against-one battle can be, after his humiliating defeat down in the prison. Besides, Toulouse and his _Sans-Magie_ mother would not be able to defend themselves against three werewolves. Or _four,_ since Lefebrve would temporarily lose his human sense of reason and control of himself.

"All right, then. Friday evening. Go to the home as soon as you transform. Sniff out LeLoup's wolf scent whether he is in that house or not! If you see any witnesses, kill them."

The three men's Summoned images vanished.

…

Agathe and Aloysius continued to watch Sauvageon in the Mirror, who in turn was watching Robert, Toulouse, and Toulouse's mother in the crystal ball. Her protections and charms were only for those in the castle's region. She'd failed to tamper with the crystal ball's ability to show people _outside_ it.

Robert, Toulouse, and his innocent mother, Madame Granger, were still staying in Toulouse's home. Agathe and Aloysius were not even certain they could warn them.

"See if they put a Summons on their names!" said Aloysius, nervously fiddling with one of the roses, rolling its stem in his fingers.

"Robert Lefebvre!" Agathe stated. He did not Summon himself in their cottage. She tried the younger man's name. "Toulouse Alain Granger!" He did not appear either.

"Agathe-" said Aloysius, "use the Mirror to get a better look at them. We must see what Robert and Toulouse are doing this moment."

"I am afraid of letting go of my surveillance of that office," said Agathe. "Aloysius, do me a favor. You have to get Marcel back here, so he can watch with me. He sent them letters and I want to know what he told them! Go to the castle and look for him!" she commanded.

"Right away!" said Aloysius, giving Agathe a 'saluting' gesture with his hand. He rushed out of the cottage. slamming the front door.

Agathe stared at the Mirror. "Show me Toulouse and Robert." The scene of Minister Bertrand's office switched over to a scene of Toulouse Granger's home.

...

_AN- This is a weird chapter, I'm sorry for all the scene-switching between Agathe's cottage and the Minister's office. Lots of HP references that I hope you enjoyed! I needed to bring back my bad guys. I'd rather write romantic gushy stuff between couples, and I promise there will be more of that. :)_

_To Guest- I love your reviews, thank you! I hoped it was clear from the chapter 'The Hideout,' but maybe it wasn't. Agathe was upset because Lumiere was talking about a ball thrown by Prince Adam's father. She was one of his conquests when she was a young girl and she didn't know he was married with a child. Lumiere's story brought back a memory she would rather forget. _


	21. A Werewolf in Hiding

Chapter 21- A Werewolf in Hiding

…

Robert, now a homeless fugitive, was a guest in the home of Toulouse Granger and his mother. He had been staying in the tiny flat above the Grangers' for several days, helping the widow with odd jobs, fixing and repairing. Naturally, he had no intention of revealing his unfortunate condition to her.

Toulouse Granger sat at a table poring over several books of public record that his mother borrowed from the Paris library, researching his own family. He wanted so badly to learn more about his roots, his paternal relatives, wondering how he ended up a _Sans-Magie_-born wizard. He only knew that his Magical ability came from his father's father, Adrien Quintus Granger. His mother was presently cooking dinner. Robert sat at the table, curiously glancing over the books Toulouse was reading.

"Monsieur Lefebrve," Madame Granger asked while stirring a pot, "do you prefer onions or garlic in your soup?"

"Onions, but what do you prefer, Toulouse?" Robert asked the young man, paying conscious attention to manners in front of the lady.

"Doesn't matter," Toulouse mumbled, his attention focused on the book of record.

_Adrien Q. Granger, 1687-1759_. _Occupation, unknown_. Toulouse smiled to himself as he read the inky script on the yellowing pages. 'Wizard' was the man's occupation.

He read with interest that the late Adrien had four brothers, three of whom were wizards. The one who was a magic-less Defective, Denis Granger, had the respectable 'watchmaker' as an occupation while the others stated 'unknown.'

Toulouse read down to the next line of the family bearing his surname. Grand-Pere Adrien had two children by his _Sans-Magie_ wife. Toulouse's father who was _Sans-Magie_, and his long-deceased older sister. Her name had been Rosalind.

"Maman?" Toulouse finally glanced up from his pile of books. "Did you know Rosalind Granger? She's my aunt."

"Rosalind?" His mother paused from cutting onions. "Poor girl. She died in the Plague. I knew her as Rosalind Beaumont."

"She died in the Plague," Toulouse repeated. "That makes it quite unlikely that she was a...Maman, do you remember whether or not Papa's sister was Magical? Did he say anything about her being Magical, even though _he_ wasn't?"

"No. Neither she nor her husband were Magical, honey. They were very ordinary. A poor couple scraping a living just as we have been all these years. Monsieur Beaumont was an artist. But not a successful one."

Toulouse read with eagerness the very scant information listed about the late Rosalind Beaumont.

_Rosalind Hélène Granger (1724-1752) m. to Maurice Beaumont, 1719- One child, Belle Emma-Louise Beaumont, b. 1752-_

"Maman!" Toulouse said in surprised joy. "What about her daughter Belle?"

"Belle?" Madame Granger repeated as her face fell, recalling a tragic memory. "That was their baby girl's name. My poor sister-in-law Rosalind was found dead in her apartment. Alone in her bed, next to an empty baby cradle. Your father and I never knew what became of Maurice and the child. After Rosalind died, they were never seen in the city again. Your father looked for them and asked all the neighbors- but no one knew. They had simply left. I believe that Maurice left Paris with the baby to save her from catching the disease. Rosie loved her baby girl so much. Perhaps she _begged_ Maurice to leave."

"Really?" said Toulouse, saddened.

"That's my belief. But your father thought they must have fallen ill and died after her, away from their apartment. There were no letters from him. Nothing."

"That is a sad, sad story," said Robert, frowning. He had sidled himself along Madame Granger to help her prepare onions for soup.

"Belle Beaumont and her father Maurice may still be alive," said Toulouse. "Belle's my first cousin. I wish I knew more about her."

"Toulouse- wait!" said Robert Lefebrve, using his hand to magically split an onion into tiny cubes. "Remember that letter we got yesterday from Marcel?"

"The one we _both_ received?" said Toulouse. "The one where he's asking us to travel out to Alsace in the east and hide out with him and Aloysius and Mademoiselle Agathe?"

"Yes, Toulouse. _That_ letter. Same one I have. If Marcel knew we were bunking together in the same building, he could have saved an extra post bird," Robert chuckled. "I don't blame him for wanting to leave, but he could've come to stay here with us. Besides, I _miss_ that young man. I miss teasing him in prison. You know, I had him completely convinced that I had er...'proclivities' for our own gender. He was disgusted as hell with me for 'flirting' with him."

Robert threw back his head and laughed heartily, while Madame Granger gave him a shocked '_that is not funny_!' look, distracted from her cooking for a moment.

"And you and Marcel were still friends? Even though he turned you into a frozen ice statue? Which could've _killed_ you?" Toulouse inquired.

Madame Granger looked at Robert again in curiosity. "What sort of prison would allow their inmates to turn each other into ice?" she asked.

"_Wizard_ _prison_!" both Robert and Toulouse replied in unison, which made Robert burst into fresh guffaws of laughter. "They'd taken our wands, but Agathe and Marcel are both gifted in wandless magic. They couldn't take that from them!" the secret werewolf admitted.

Toulouse shook his head with doubt. "This Marcel fellow...he honestly wants us to go hide out inside some royal _Sans-Magie_ couple's giant castle far away? To plan out a war of rebellion? I think it's ridiculous. I'm _not_ interested. I'm not leaving Maman, and I'm _not_ hiding out in some aristocrat's castle!"

"Truth be told, I don't think a royal couple would want _me_ in their castle," Robert said, his mood coming down from levity. "But listen! Here's my point, Toulouse. When you mentioned the name 'Belle' it made me remember that one half of that royal couple is named 'Princess Belle.' Perhaps _she's_ your long-lost cousin?"

"I doubt it," said Toulouse, scoffing a bit. "There are loads of Belles in France. It can be short for Isabelle, a common name."

Madame Granger shook her head. "I could not see anyone related to that poor artist Maurice Beaumont, much less his _child_, to be a Princess of any sort."

"You know, I feel like I'm overstaying my welcome, Madame Granger," Robert interjected, in an uncharacteristically quiet and solemn tone. "I have to move on. One week is too long."

"Oh, _no_, Monsieur! You're not imposing on us at all," argued Madame Granger, fussing with her strawberry blonde hair secured in its bun. "I appreciate your being here."

"And I very much appreciate your hospitality," said Robert. He and Madame Granger exchanged a warm, almost flirtatious smile, one that Toulouse tried desperately to ignore.

"Toulouse...want to go down to the larder with me to help me pick out some dinner wine?" suggested Robert.

"Suppose I wouldn't mind." Toulouse reluctantly followed him out of the small kitchen and sitting room, down a flight of steps to a dim cellar. Toulouse used his wand to light up the place, illuminating a shelf which held just three wine bottles.

"We usually save the wine for special occasions. Like Christmas, which is in two months. And the New Year," he mumbled in protest.

"Ahh, the New Year. Seventeen-seventy-seven! All those sevens point to good luck ahead!"

"You had _better_ not be leading on my poor lonely mother, charming her like that. She doesn't know about your condition!" said Toulouse.

"I wish we could put a duplication spell on wine," Robert muttered, ignoring the younger man. "I didn't mean to make her fancy me, but I _do_ like the idea. She's a pretty lady, your mother. Barely looks a day over thirty."

"_Monsieur Lefebvre_!" Toulouse scolded. "You _know_ you must leave here soon. Because of this Friday!"

"You think I don't _realize_ that?" Robert growled. "Where the hell am I supposed to go?"

"I can help, I think. I hate to do this to you, but if you have nowhere else to go, I can conjure a brick..._cage_ for you in this cellar. When late Friday afternoon arrives, you and I will come down here. I will conjure the bricks, and build the walls all around you to keep you from harming others. The problem is...I must construct a wall above you, rather like a roof. And make it large enough to accommodate your wolf form—"

"You want to box me in? For half a day and all night? How will I even _breathe_? How will I prevent myself from fighting my way out and bloodying my head? Do you know how _big_ I always grow?"

"Then where _else_ will you go?" Toulouse asked nervously. "The moment you leave this building is the moment you risk being caught by _Le __Ministère_ and die. And perhaps myself and my mother as well!"

"Then I should take Marcel's advice, I suppose. Find a way to travel out to that castle Agathe's made into a safe place," Robert said in defeat. "I won't go _inside_ the castle until after my transformation is over. I'll have a few weeks to decide where to go after that. Before the _next _full moon."

"That's a much better idea." Toulouse rubbed his neck, craning it to look upon the hulking man's face, a shadow of stress and fear coming over Robert.

"Aloysius knows potions, Marcel wrote in the letters," Robert said, grasping for hope to end his ongoing fate. "He mentioned something about the man knowing how to brew a 'tentative cure for my condition' in his letter to me." He grabbed one of the bottles of wine, and both men headed back upstairs to join Madame Granger.

"The soup and breads are ready," the lady of the house announced.

"Merci, Madame, your cooking is always delicious," said Robert, giving her a grin while Toulouse scowled at him.

"Do you want me to make the wine colder with my wand, Maman?" Toulouse addressed his mother.

"No," Madame Granger said nervously. "Please understand, honey. I want you and Monsieur Lefebrve safe. The less magic you do, the better."

Immediately after Marie Granger had spoken, a flash of white light illuminated the tiny apartment room. When it subsided, three people appeared before them.

In the middle stood a regal-looking, fair blonde woman of about Marie's own age, dressed in a green and gold gown. She wore an expression of caring and concern.

At each side of her stood two men. One was an attractive young brown-skinned man, an urgent and very stressed look on his face. The other was an aging fellow with a greying ponytail and kind brown eyes. Unlike the other two Enchanted folk, he seemed the most calm and laid back.

Madame Granger was about to scream, but something in the older wizard's manner let her know there was no danger from these sudden visitors.

"Excuse us, Madame, for dropping in so unexpectedly," said Aloysius with a polite nod.

Robert's face lit up with joy. "_Our angels_!" he cried out with outstretched arms.

...


	22. Marcel's Change of Plan

Chapter 22- Marcel's Change of Plan

…

Robert rushed over to Marcel, hugging him and practically lifting him off his feet.

"Marcel! I haven't seen you since that day I carried you out of prison! Thought I'd never see you again, _mon ami!"_ he laughed. He gave his former fellow inmates and the other unexpected visitor an incredulous look. "Agathe, m'lady! You look young again! Must be the fresh air, eh? And-_you!"_ he addressed Aloysius. "You're the other one who broke us out! _Merci beaucoup!"_

"We have to get you out of here now, Robert!" Marcel said tensely.

"So what the hell are you _doing_ here if you were in some faraway castle?" Robert shouted, giving the three of them a look of confusion. "You can't use _Transplaner_ all the way from Alsace to Paris. If you did, you've reached the pinnacle of almighty wizard power! Unless _you_ can, Mademoiselle Agathe. I don't doubt your powers."

"We rode the skies in Marcel's flying carriage. He brought us down to the grounds of a country estate just outside of Paris," explained Agathe. "A _Sans-Magie_ known as the Marquis de Brumagne allowed us to keep the carriage there."

"Then, the three of us ran into the forest behind the Marquis' mansion," said Aloysius.

"And when we arrived in the forest," Marcel continued, "we used Aloysius' Magic Mirror to concentrate our minds on your whereabouts, Robert. Then, we were able to use _Transplaner _to come here."

"Brilliant idea!" said Toulouse in admiration, observing the happy reunion.

"So Robert, are you ready to go?" Marcel said with insistence. "We can't waste a minute! _Le __Ministère_ has their noses up our asses for certain!"

"Marcel, just relax please-" said Aloysius.

"So get him out of here, then!" Toulouse interjected, giving Robert Lefebvre's large body a push forward. Robert scowled. "His..._night_ is coming up! I've been telling him the same thing!"

"What am I, a giant rat pest you need to get rid of?" Robert growled. "Marie! Please tell your child he is very rude."

Madame Granger took the side of her guest against her son. "Toulouse, he's right. What is his 'night', anyway?"

"Robert!" Marcel chided. "You didn't tell this lady about what you are?"

"What I _am,_ is a homeless man running from _Le __Ministère_ like all my friends here," Robert said in an anguished voice, his head down in dejection. "I know when I'm not wanted."

Marcel rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I don't believe this! _Tu te fous de ma gueule_?" he groaned.

"_I'm_ telling her then," said Toulouse. He turned to his confused mother. "Maman, your friend and guest here is a-"

"_Bouche de Colle!_" Robert hissed out at the same time. Toulouse's mouth snapped shut, his lips magically sealed together. Marie Granger gasped.

"Let's go! _Now_!" said Marcel, reaching out to grab Robert with one arm while grasping Aloysius' arm in the other. "Toulouse Granger, am I correct?" he addressed the youngest fellow. Toulouse nodded, humming through his locked lips.

"You and the lady must leave your home, I'm sorry. There's an execution squad on their way to kill Robert and anyone he's with," Marcel warned.

Madame Granger gasped. "_No!"_

"Toulouse, you can either go with us by _Transplaner _right now, or find shelter somewhere else," Marcel directed. "Madame, I'm afraid you will have to go somewhere else in the city for at least the next five days. This kind of travel is dangerous. Enchanters only."

"And Robert, you need to undo your hex on the boy, so he can say a proper goodbye," said Agathe.

The werewolf frowned. "Don't say anything to her about me, Toulouse! Promise?"

"Mfff-mphfff…" Toulouse tried to express. Robert mumbled '_Arrête,_" and Toulouse was free to speak.

"Maman, pack some things and go to Josette's place. They won't be looking for you. It's Robert they're after. And _me_\- since I'm a member of the Enchanted Rebel Army. We have plans."

"It's a _war_?" Madame Granger asked grimly.

"Yes," Toulouse replied. He took a few moments to embrace his anguished mother, before joining arms with the four other Enchanters.

They all formed a tight circle and vanished away via the _Transplaner_ spell before Robert had the chance to thank Marie Granger for her hospitality.

…

The group of Enchanters successfully re-appeared in the same part of a forest that Agathe, Aloysious and Marcel had left only minutes earlier.

"The carriage is this way. We can walk there since we are out of the city, do not worry," said Agathe, pointing towards the Marquis de Brumagne's stables.

"We have to get Adelaide," Marcel reminded them. Back at the castle, Adelaide had begged to come along with him on the flying carriage. Since she was _Sans-Magie_, Marcel feared that she could not handle travel by _Transplaner_ if he'd tried to pull her along. He'd compromised with her by sending her to the Marquis' estate, so she could pay her old employers and colleagues a visit. She'd happily agreed.

"She's much more safe to stay here a while and find her own ride back to the castle," argued Aloysius. "Is there a way you can convince her that you'll see her again soon? She ought to go and visit her own family since she's near Paris at the moment."

Marcel gave a stress sigh. "I can attempt that, Monsieur Aloysius...but I doubt it'll work. And yes, I _know_ what you're implying. _Merde! _It's too late now. _Damn, _I shouldn't have made her run off with me on a broom that day!"

"People in love do crazy things," said Aloysius with empathy.

"Hurry, Marcel, if you want to fetch her. Use _Transplaner_ if you need," urged Agathe.

Marcel closed his eyes, visualized the staircase and front door of the Marquis' mansion, and found himself there in an instant. He pounded on the door. "Adelaide!"

The door opened abruptly. Marcel's fist collided with the vested chest of the Marquis' new butler, a tall sturdy fellow in a white wig. His face twisted with contempt from the mishap.

"Who are _you_?" the man snarled. "How _dare_ you lay your hand on me! Your Grace?" he shouted to his master. "Someone else's _very rude_ manservant is here, and he's assaulted me like a-"

"I'm sorry, excuse me, but-" Marcel swept past the man and found himself in a small but elegant reception parlor. "Adelaide?"

"Marcel, is that you?"

His heart warmed to hear his love's voice as she bustled into the room, holding a teacup and looking refreshed and relaxed. The Marquis Antoine de Brumagne and his wife were with Adelaide in the parlor, along with their current maid. Adelaide's cat, Lorette, wandered around her feet. She skittered over to Marcel's boots once she caught sight of him.

"Your Graces! Madame Chambon! I want to introduce you to my fiancé," said Adelaide cheerfully. "Do you remember Monsieur Clement from Prince Adam's castle last summer? Well, we sort of ended up being well acquainted, and-"

"Oh yes, my dear, we remember this man," said the Marquess Marie-Juliette warmly, recalling Marcel upon sight. "How _could_ we forget you?"

The Marquis' face paled. Seeing Marcel again was an instant reminder of the whole '_Luc or Gaston?'_ fiasco. The nobleman was still trying to put his embarrassing ordeal of hiring Prince Adam's would-be killer behind him. He'd given his senior maid the position of Head of Household, since terminating the so-called 'Luc.'

"_You_-" breathed the Marquis to the sudden visitor. "You were doing all kinds of strange-" He made an awkward gesture of someone waving a magic wand. "And somehow, Gaston and Princess Belle were-" He made a sweeping gesture with both arms out, pantomiming the giant 'screen' Marcel had made of Belle's library books, so that Gaston and Belle could speak from one part of the immense castle to another.

"I hope that day didn't frighten you. I apologize for that spectacle, Monsieur." Marcel said solemnly. "I also want to let you know that Gaston is doing fine. And so is Emilie."

"We know, Monsieur. Adelaide told us about Gaston," replied the Marquis, forgiving of the man's use of 'Monsieur' instead of a noble title. His face bore a slight expression of hurt, recalling the checkered-past man who'd served him under a fake name, romanced Emilie, and then proceeded to utterly ruin Prince Adam's birthday ball.

"Oh, yes. She must have informed you about them," Marcel replied awkwardly, ignoring the butler's burning look of near-hatred towards him. Finally, he turned to face the man. "Monsieur. In my defense, I did not plan to strike you. _You_ opened the door so fast I was caught off guard. And just to clarify- I am no one's 'manservant' and I never have been."

The butler continued to glare at Marcel, but the latter broke his gaze and looked to Adelaide's loving eyes for comfort. '_It's okay,' _her expression seemed to say.

She spoke up graciously to thank her former employers. "Thank you so much for the tea and hospitality and letting me visit you on such short notice, Your Graces. I need to take leave of you now." She handed off her teacup to the still-appalled butler, smiling sweetly at him while she took Marcel's hand.

"Monsieur Forêt?" she said flippantly, "When you asked me earlier if I wanted creamer or sugar, I _did_ tell you that I take my tea the same way I like my men. Dark, hot, and sweet." With that, she picked up her cat, and she and Marcel ran out the door, bursting into laughter like children.

Monsieur Forêt scowled down at Adelaide's discarded cup of creamless but sugared tea and gave his master an incredulous look. "Is that even _allowed_? Her and him?"

"She's our former maid, no relation. So as far as I'm concerned, she can love whomever she wishes. I like him," said the Marquess Marie Juliette.

"But he's a-"

"Warlock? Yes, we're aware. He performs magic, we've seen it. And he's not just an illusionist, he's an actual sorcerer. One of those things one must see to believe," said the Marquis matter of factly.

"_A what_?" Monsieur Forêt held Adelaide's teacup away from his body with spite. "Never heard the word. Is that what the British call them?"

"Perhaps," said the Marquis de Brugmaine. "All I know is I'm glad to see Adelaide happy again."

…

Marcel and Adelaide rushed back to the stable, where his flying horses Felix and Fifi were being readied for takeoff.

"Promise you won't fly up so fast this time? I still have a stomachache," Adelaide said, trying to keep her cat wrapped in one arm while holding Marcel's hand.

"_Ma petite_, I cannot promise anything. Avoiding _Le Ministère_ is my only goal right now. You may be ill, you may throw up, but that's the way it is. Now, I'm giving you a choice if you want to stay here and go see your family back in the city. Aloysius and I do want you safe. Actually, I-" He breathed a sigh to try to get the truth out. "_Please_, Adelaide. I would much rather you not fly with us. Not tonight. There is a worse risk than just you being ill."

Adelaide's sunny mood collapsed; Marcel felt her fingers slipping from his.

"Adelaide," he snapped, reaching out to re-grab her hand. "Listen to me- this is a moment where both our lives are at stake. We were fortunate enough to not run into _Le Ministère's _agents on the flight here. They must be out there. Aloysius and Agathe are sure of it!"

"I'm staying with you,' Adelaide declared. "You cannot talk me out of it."

He gazed at her, knowing that she was equally as stubborn as he was. Palming both of her cheeks with his hands, he bent down to give her a brief but ardent kiss on the lips. "I love you." He glanced down at Lorette and gave the ever-present cat a light touch on her downy fur.

"And I love you," said Adelaide. "You fly, I fly with you. If we die, we die together."

He nodded and averted his eyes from hers, blinking back emotion. "Let's go. Robert needs to be hidden in a place where he can transform into a vicious wolf without harming anyone else."

Adelaide nodded. They grasped hands again and began to run. He pulled her along as she gasped and panted to keep up with his long strides, clutching Lorette to her shoulder.

When they reached the nobleman's stables, Marcel rushed to his two horses, hugging the mare named Fifi around her strong neck. Aloysius, Agathe, Robert, and Toulouse were waiting for them. Robert had even helped things along by hitching Fifi and Felix to the large black stagecoach.

"Finally! You're here, Adelaide!" Aloysius greeted. "Let's all climb aboard. Not a moment to waste."

"Adelaide, I want you to ride with them on the inside of the coach," Marcel urged her. "I'm sorry, my love, but I _cannot_ have you distracting me with your fretting over my speed. And it's safer."

"I understand," Adelaide replied with growing anxiety. "Whichever way is safe...I trust you."

"I'm so happy that you trust me. I've barely earned it," he replied, palming her cheek and kissing her once more.

Marcel leapt to the driver's seat, while the other five people- plus one cat- crowded into the passenger seats. He pulled on the reins in haste, and the horses took off to above the treetops, soaring heavenward in a nearly vertical position.

Inside the coach, the passengers clung to the door handles. Adelaide screamed while Robert and Agathe remained calm. Toulouse and Aloysius clutched their door handles and tried to reassure the _Sans-Magie_ woman that this was all normal, safe Enchanted transport- in spite of the circumstances of war.

"Every September, all French Magical children are transported to the Academie in a flight as fast as this one, though in much larger coach," Aloysius said in as lighthearted a tone as he could.

"That's child abuse!" cried Adelaide in a hoarse voice. She clutched the handle for dear life, her eyes scrunched shut. Lorette lay peacefully on her lap.

...

From Marcel's vantage point, he began to spot objects flying in the distance. With horror he realized they were not in the shapes of birds. Squinting, he could make out the silhouettes of a dozen people on brooms, flying in formation like a flock of geese. A glowing blue streak shot out from what looked like someone's wand.

"_Putain de merde!_" he hissed under his breath. It had to be _Le Ministère_ men. Marcel was flying the carriage east, they were heading west. Someone- Sauvageon, perhaps- must have tracked one or more of the trio in Paris.

Marcel thought for a moment whether or not he could throw a freezing curse at them from this distance. He raised his hand to prepare the strike...but a moment later, he came back to reason and reconsidered the decision.

They had wands. There were more of them. If he took a chance, threw his freezing curse and missed- and they saw his golden beam flying in their direction, it would be an open invite to battle. They would not be afraid to send horrible deadly flames from their wands, incinerating the coach and everyone in it.

Fearing the thought of such an encounter with Adelaide and the others on board, Marcel guided the horses to soar higher and veered north instead of east. He heard Adelaide shout in fear at the sudden turn. Approaching a thick cloud, he set a heating charm around the carriage to keep everyone warm while leading the horses through the water vapor.

The cloud would at least hide the coach from human eyes. He now had to turn his head sharply to the right to see the threatening broom riders. They were at a much lower level.

"Faster, Felix and Fifi...faster," he urged them on quietly, pulling on their reins. The horses and coach increased speed. "Please, please..._Dieu aide moi!"_

An image of his Maman- Sabine- came into his mind. The feeling came upon him that _she_ was the one he needed to go to. She was a potion making expert! It was possible that _she_ could brew a draught to stop Robert's wolf transformations. Aloysius, though an equally good potion brewer, had not been able to make any more potions due to his near-deadly accident. If only Marcel could get his mother to help Robert- the man's werewolf problem could be at least partially cured.

"_Agathe! Aloysius!_" Marcel yelled.

"Yes?" Agathe replied. "We hear you. Is something wrong?"

"Would you mind if I took a change of course? Changed our plans entirely?"

"Change of plans?" Robert exclaimed. "What are you _talking_ about, Marcel? I thought we're going to that royal palace where Agathe cast her Shield Charms!"

"I'm thinking about London!"

"_London?_" Robert yelled.

"To check on my Maman and aunt and cousin."

"_Now_?"

"_Yes!_"

Marcel fiddled with a rolled up map on his seat. He took a glance downward; he could clearly see the blue hue and reflected sun of a large body of water. The compass at the side of his seat indicated he was completely northbound. The English Channel.

For the time being he'd lost sight of the enemy broom fleet, but he didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Mademoiselle Agathe, if I keep flying north over the English Channel at this point, we'll be completely out of France, and that means out of _Le Ministère_'s reach! We can't risk a fight if we meet them in the skies!" he shouted against the rushing wind. He addressed Agathe in particular, feeling dependent upon her power and cunning. Her being there was the only thing keeping him under a semblance of control. Whatever she could do from inside that carriage, she'd better do it. Shield charms, Invisibility- anything.

"You sound as if you've already seen _Le Ministère_ people flying around!" Robert yelled.

"I...I can't determine that, but we have to assume it!" he shouted back, not willing to admit the truth. "Aloysius? Toulouse? Got your wands on hand?"

"We have them," Aloysius' calm voice was muffled in the winds of flight.

"Stick your heads out the window and look behind you! Wands out and ready to fire!"

He heard Adelaide's panicking voice. "Marcel, what are you _saying_?" It wouldn't take much for her to sense what was going on.

"_Marcel!" _Agathe, too, screamed his name in warning.

A 'crack' sound and a blue glow came whizzing past Marcel's ear. He turned to the source, and horror struck his entire being. Two men on brooms had found them and they were starting to fire curses from behind.

...


	23. Ice vs Fire

Chapter 23- Ice vs. Fire

…

With horror, Marcel could see two new broom riders ascending on either side of the flying coach, bringing the number of attackers up to four.

Vulnerable in the open air, he let go of the reins with his left hand, praying the horses would continue to soar at rocket speed. He immediately conjured a shield for himself, but it could only protect from the side the spinning golden disc faced.

Flames spit out from the man's long, sword-like wand. Marcel winced from a shock of pain; a spark touching his shoulder as he maneuvered the golden shield to block the fire.

Marcel chose the ice spell, the strongest one he could send from his bare hand. He shot the retaliatory curse to the _Le Ministère_ agent, who'd conjured his own spinning shield disc.

The two spells collided, fire and ice, bouncing off each other, cancelling each other out. Marcel noticed that the man wore a black hood to shield his face. _Show yourself, coward, _he thought.

He heard Agathe shout from inside the coach. With the wind howling in his ears, all attention focused on the _Le Ministère_ fighter to his left, he had no idea what she'd said. He knew she was battling the other fighters from her carriage window along with Aloysius and Toulouse. He was backed up on all sides.

_Is Adelaide all right? _he thought. _Stupidly __stubborn woman!_

Because she loved him so much. The thought of her love fueled Marcel's magic. The other man's fire began to dim.

He concentrated all of his might on keeping his shield disc impenetrable and continuing a steady stream of powerful ice. His hand felt numb with the cold; his head throbbed with the effort it took. Finally, after moments of grappling the hooded man, his opponent's shield disk shattered. Marcel's curse hit the man square in the heart.

He transformed into an opaque, white ice statue before he'd even had the chance to yell.

The frozen man and his broom plummeted to earth, their dropping silhouettes looking much like Aloysius had looked on that frightful day.

Marcel pushed away the reality of what he had done. He did not want to consider any facts about this...time to press on. _One vanquished, three to go._

A glow of soft light illuminated the dusk-violet skies around them, and a pained yell came from the broom rider on Marcel's right-hand side. He turned to watch, shield disc on the ready. One of his allies inside the carriage had just sent a curse, and Marcel had a very good idea which person it was.

The man's cries of pain were turning into the squeals of a pig. Not only that, but the cloaked man was shrinking in size. His nose became snoutlike. The hands on the broomstick and wand transformed into animal's hooves.

A pinkish hog sat upon the broom where the man had been seconds before. The black cloak fell from its body and soon the cloven-hooved creature lost grip of the broom.

The pig, the broom, and its clothing dropped and disappeared into the misty clouds below.

"_Agathe_!" Marcel shouted. "You-"

"_Pay attention, Marcel!_ _I've got this!"_ Agathe chided.

Two remaining broom riders approached, side by side, just meters behind him.

"Aloysius! Agathe! Watch my damned tail, won't you?" Marcel said in alarm.

"Trust me, dear!" Agathe scolded with what seemed to be no fear in her voice. _The woman's a beast,_ he thought.

As Marcel turned his shield and prepared to shout '_Geler!_' again, he heard Agathe cry out the words "_Le Interiéur Dehors!" _

It was clear to him now, why the other man had become a pig of all things. It was HER curse. Her signature. The one she'd once used on a _Sans-Magie_ prince, because she'd been so furious he'd grown up to be like his father...

Agathe's curse hit another Ministry thug. He began to shrink out of his clothing until he became what looked to be a rat.

The bundle of clothing and the broom began to drop. Marcel could see the rodent's mouth, with its tiny incisor teeth, let out a squeak. Its paws clawed the empty space around it; a desperate attempt to stay airborne. It fell from the sky to the earth below.

"I've always hated rats!" Marcel heard Aloysius exclaim. "Good one, Agathe!"

"_Merci, Agathe!_" Marcel exclaimed.

"_Petrifier!" _the last living enemy shouted behind him. Marcel knew that voice.

He wished he could maneuver his golden shield disc in a less awkward movement. He was vulnerable again, no choice but to turn around on his carriage seat and face backwards to see the last enemy. He risked falling from the carriage and attempting a Levitation. There was no way he could even accomplish such a thing. Certainly not while wielding a shield disc, _and_ trying to throw ice curses all at the same time! Even Merlin himself couldn't have done it.

One wrong move, one slow reaction, and it would mean certain death.

"_Agathe!" _The cry was Aloysius' voice. He sounded so unlike himself. Aloysius had always seemed so cool, unaffected, unruffled as a pond on a breezeless summer day. Something was wrong inside the coach.

"Good evening, Clement!"

The last broom rider drew nearer. He sidled up to Marcel on the carriage seat, boldly showing his face. Pale blue eyes met his in a look of questioning challenge. Alexis Sauvageon.

"My dear aunt just murdered two of my colleagues, while you murdered one! Welcome to the brotherhood of killers, Marcel, _mon garçon._"

"I _had _to do what needed to be done," Marcel replied tensely. "I'm willing to do it once more."

"His name was Quilicus Volant," said Sauvageon in a low tone as he flew even nearer. "He had a wife and three small children. _You_ just created a widow and orphans, who cannot claim a body to bury because the shards of ice on the ground are melting this very moment."

"_Volant?_" Marcel had not recognized the man in the skirmish just moments ago. The name, however, brought him an instant image of a youth who'd inspired him in sport over a decade before. He hadn't heard the name 'Quilicus Volant' in years. _Quill. _The older boy had been his coach and mentor. One of the best _Boule de Plume_ Seekers at the Académie.

All those practice drills. Coach Quill's advice about choosing the right broom so it becomes 'one' with you, an extension of your body just as a wand. He'd helped all to become better players regardless of blood status or social standing. Andre Rosier had been a mutual friend of Quill's as well. _How could he have changed so?_

The man must have gone under the influence of Corvus and Falco, the two snobbish wizard supremacist brothers who'd ruled over the Académie during Marcel's school years.

Marcel kept the shield strong and his spell-casting arm steady as tears stung the back of his eyes. His former chief knew him well enough to torture him with words and harsh truths before delivering any blows.

"You feel anguish right now, don't you?" Sauvageon mocked. "Still a weak child."

"He tried to kill me…"

"And I'm about to do the same," Alexis said in a calm, almost soft voice. He raised his wand over his head, his expression hard to read.

"You couldn't bring yourself to kill your own aunt just now! I heard you use _Petrifier _and now she's unconscious inside that carriage. You have some good in you," Marcel blurted out.

Alexis' hand stilled. "What are you talking about, Clement? I'm saving her death for later!" he scoffed. "When you are dead, she's next. Then it will be Aloysius, and then the werewolf, and then the tarnished-blood boy. Your lady friend will be left alive when I set this carriage on fire."

"_Marcel!_" Adelaide screamed. She must be terrified, the others in the carriage battling out their windows and Agathe out cold.

"So you _are_ nothing but a beast," Marcel said to Sauvageon with disgust. Agathe's voice came into his mind's ear.

'_Le Intérieur Dehors,' _she was saying. '_Make an attempt.'_

"_Le Intérieur Dehors!" _He found himself choking out the words of her special curse, just as he shielded himself from Alexis' curse of _Feu de la Mort,_ the same fire attack the masked Coach Quill had used. The blazing heat radiated from Alexis' wand. Marcel could feel it blistering his palm painfully, in spite of his shield. His right hand controlled the magical shield, his left hand was extended out, pointing at Sauvageon and vulnerable to the flame as he focused on his own curse. _Become what you are on the inside! _

As Alexis Sauvageon aimed his streak of fire at Marcel, a look of shock crossed his face. Distracted, the flames began to subside.

Sauvageon's face transformed and elongated like that of a horse. Dark fur replaced the fair skin and golden beard, and a pair of horns, like a goat's, sprouted from the top of his head. Sauvageon's clothes ripped to reveal a hair covered body, still like a large man's but with a long tail like a donkey's. His hands and feet became webbed. It was the oddest creature Marcel had ever seen.

"What the hell?" Robert Lefebrve exclaimed as he looked out of the carriage window and caught sight of what had been done.

Like the others before, the beast fell into the abyss of darkening sky.

Marcel looked down and saw that they were still flying above the sea. The thought came to him that if the beast were to survive the impact, he would plunge beneath the depths and drown.

"Marcel!" Adelaide cried out. "Please talk to me! What was that thing?"

"Adelaide- I'm still here!"

"She's been Petrified!" Aloysius said. "Are you hurt?"

"My hand is burned," said Marcel, finally turning off his charmed shield and allowing himself to truly feel the pain of his left hand after the adrenaline rush of the fight. Blisters had formed on his palm.

Felix and Fifi, the horses, began a descent as Marcel used his uninjured right hand to hold the reins once more, trying every ounce of strength to get them all landed. The horses had been bravely soaring on their own, all this time. Land was visible before them now. The coast of southern England.

...

They descended until the horses alighted themselves. The coach made a small bump and rolled safely on a grassy meadow not far from the rocky cliffs of the shore. It was chilly in the autumn season, the ground covered with dead leaves, and the sun was quickly setting. They needed to find some rest and shelter soon.

Marcel leapt down from the carriage seat. As soon as his boots hit the grass he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. Toulouse and Robert sat down, spent as well, against the trunks of trees.

Adelaide sprang out of the carriage and rushed to her love's side, lying down next to him and using her warm cloak as a blanket to cover him. "You're hurt!" she exclaimed. Lorette the cat come from the carriage as well, curling up near the man's boots.

Robert and Toulouse used the remainder of their strength to go back and carry out the stiff and unconscious form of Mademoiselle Agathe. They lay her down on the soft grass and covered her with a wool blanket from a carriage seat. Aloysius knelt down next to his sleeping cousin.

"It will take about twelve hours to a day until she awakens. She's Sleeping Beauty for now," he said fondly.

"We need to go to my mother's in London," Marcel said weakly, lying face up with Adelaide cradling his head in her lap. "Robert, she knows about werewolf healing potions. She talked about them."

"I think you better worry about yourself, _mon __garçon_, not me," said Robert. "I'm not the one burned by _Feu de la Mort_."

"Monsieur Aloysius, do you have anything for his burned hand?" Adelaide asked fretfully.

Aloysius checked his pockets and the bags inside the coach. There was only one vial of potion in his and Agathe's possession, and it was the heart-healing draught that he himself had been taking to recover from his fall over a week before.

"I lack the correct potion right now, my dear," he said sadly.

"Water, soap for cleaning, and bandages! We need at least those!" Adelaide cried. She tugged up the skirt of her dress and started to tear the white linen petticoat she wore beneath it. "Look in my red travel bag, I have soaps from the castle!"

Aloysius quickly conjured up three large jugs of water, enough for the night. When he checked Adelaide's bag, he found several yellow-tinted blocks of fine quality water-closet soap that Plumette had given to Adelaide back in her guest room at the castle. Adelaide hurriedly poured some water on the ripped fabric and rubbed it upon a block of soap.

"Marcel, I'm so sorry, but-"

Agonized groans of pain came from the man as she placed the cloth on his blistered hand. It hadn't been that long ago that Marcel's hands were cut up from tree branches when he'd crashed his broom, and now this.

"Don't you have a spell or something to dull pain? What do Enchanted doctors use?" Adelaide cried impatiently.

"I can try _Lenio_," said Aloysius. "It will take the edge off at least." He used his wand, pointing it only a few inches from Marcel's quivering left hand. "_Lenio_," he proclaimed. Marcel stopped his moaning and trembling and closed his eyes restfully.

"_Merci_," he said.

"You and I have been paying each other forward so often lately, _mon ami_," Aloysius said to him before returning to the side of his unconscious cousin. "I'm conjuring up a shelter. No need for these two hurt warriors to be lying here in the grass while night is falling." the oldest wizard proclaimed.

"I like it here, though," said Toulouse. "If any _Sans-Magies_ are about, I know English and can communicate with them quite well in fact."

"Well, good!" said Robert cheerfully, but as he looked away from the boy he rolled his eyes a bit in sarcasm.

"I learned English too," Marcel piped up weakly.

"How so?" asked Robert.

"From my father who spoke it. He was a Magical diplomat before he died. He was um, Minister Bertrand's friend, unfortunately," he added with a bit of shame.

"Are you feeling all right, Marcel?" Robert asked him. "And I don't mean just your burnt hand. I mean-" Robert touched his meaty palm to his own muscular chest, "-here. You led us into a war battle. You fought your little heart out. I salute you!" Robert threw his hand stiffly up to his forehead and off to his side in a flourishing gesture, which caused Marcel to force a weak smile.

"If you need someone to talk to about what happened this evening, Marcel, we're here. _All_ of us," said Aloysius.

"_Merci._ It's...right now I don't want to think about it. I'm still in shock. My...my old coach from school was-"

"Marcel," Adelaide said softly, watching his eyes redden and blink. "Sweetheart...you did what you needed to do. To save all of us." She glanced to where Agathe lay still beneath a blanket, looking as if she were asleep. Aloysius had conjured a pillow beneath the lady's head.

Marcel leaned his head against Adelaide's body, which served as a cushion. She sat cross-legged behind him, forming a soft bed of skirts and ripped petticoats. It may be improper, but propriety be damned in these circumstances. She caressed his stubbled cheek with her fair, dainty fingers. Marcel caught Adelaide's hand in his good one and began to recite a quote in English, his voice strengthening.

"_I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old."_

"That's so beautiful," Adelaide said, her eyes welling up along with his. "I know nearly every word. They say French is the language of love, but Shakespeare is lovely!"

"How did you know?" Marcel asked her, a hint of his bright grin breaking through, in spite of all his pain and shock.

"It was written on a giant plaque in the dining hall of the castle. Shakespeare is Adam and Belle's favorite!" Adelaide said cheerily.

They both laughed, Marcel's mood lifting. "_Oui_, I saw it there, and I memorized it. I was waiting to say it to you," he admitted.

Adelaide shifted her position to a reclined one, to kiss Marcel softly on his lips. He raised his good hand up to touch and caress her hair, then her shoulder and back.

"Get a room, kids," Robert joked as he watched the two cuddle and kiss upon the leaf-strewn grasses.

...

Aloysius stood up and raised his wand as dusk settled and cold set in. In minutes, he conjured a small cottage with a few rooms, not unlike the one he and Agathe had shared on the castle grounds back in France.

It was just in time, for darkness set and the autumn's waxing gibbous moon hung bright over the countryside. Robert tended to Marcel's horses and urged Aloysius to conjure a stable for them, making the point that the two animals were also heroes of the day.

Aloysius was generous enough to conjure six separate beds in three seperate rooms. For propriety, he assigned Adelaide the room where they'd laid down his Petrified cousin, keeping the women apart from the men. Adelaide was too exhausted to protest and welcomed the privacy, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Aloysius himself turned in on the small bed next to the one where Marcel slept as deep as Agathe was, his hand wrapped in white linen fabric.

The young man was becoming almost like a son to him, and his pretty fiancée almost like a daughter. He didn't know Robert or Toulouse that well yet, but he was very glad they were along. The band of fugitives- four wizards, one enchantress, and an ordinary former lady's maid, would need to move on to get help very soon. Aloysius hoped to leave the next day.

Just as Aloysius was about to go to sleep, the waxing gibbous moon shone bright in his little window. It was nearly at full, and that gave him concern for the other man amongst their group.

...

In the next room, Robert Lefebrve could not sleep. He wandered back outside and gazed up at the nearly spherical silver beauty in the sky. Clouds flittered over its brilliant light.

"I need to go away," the large man agonized. "_Far_ away."

…


	24. Healing and Hospitality

Chapter 24- Healing and Hospitality

…

Robert had no idea where he and his five companions were at the moment. All he knew was they had crossed the sea over to England and landed in a remote area where Aloysius decided to conjure up a house for them to sleep. He looked to the sky and saw the moon brighten as clouds passed. It was only a matter of hours. The next day- around early evening at moonrise- he would become an uncontrollable monster once again.

He wandered through a forest and some rolling hills until he reached a rocky area leading to some cliffs. Down below was a beach. The sea.

He hiked down a hill of step-like boulders and walked along the beach. He dipped his toe into the cold, night-dark water. The moon's reflection brought back a memory.

It was in a place much like this, in Normandy, where he'd been exploring as a younger man one night, wishing to swim by the light of the full moon. A gigantic transformed werewolf had rushed to him on the beach. It attacked him, mauling him in the right shoulder before it ran away. Robert barely even had a chance to catch a glimpse at the thing, too shocked by pain and bleeding to care.

At that time, Robert aspired to be a Magical Creatures zoologist. He'd been given a supply of enchanted seaweed which upon eating a bit of it, allowed him to swim underwater to examine the creatures of the deep. He'd only found the ordinary fish, barnacles and oysters amongst _Sans-Magie_ shipwrecks. Finding a Mer-person, a magical Sea-Beast, or even risking an encounter with an octopus-tentacled Sea-Enchanter were goals that Robert never had the chance to achieve.

Presently, Robert removed his boots and waded ankle deep in the gently lapping waves. An uncomfortable chill in the water was the one thing that made this night different from the night in which he became a werewolf in the first place. Back then it had been midsummer, the balmy season.

Robert took a deep breath and plunged into the water, not really knowing why or what he was trying to do other than hide away from the world. To protect the handful of people left who cared about him. If only he had some of that enchanted seaweed right now.

The cold was shocking as he tried to swim, his strong limbs propelling him through the quiet waves. He remembered Marie, his former ladylove. He could still see her look of barely concealed horror when she discovered the truth of what he became. He'd destroyed her house and the nearby stable one night, slaughtering two of her father's horses. One day she loved him, the next he was banished away.

How would Robert have any hope to be cured in time? Out here in a strange land, far from any access to the potion that could supposedly save him from transforming in less than twenty- no, now twelve hours. He typically changed in the early evening, and from the violet hue of the sky over the water, he could tell it was nearing dawn.

He plunged his head beneath the water, wondering if he could endure the fate of just drowning and ending it once and for all. His lungs screamed for air, and so he raised his head above the surface, gasping.

Frustrated with himself, he put his head under once more. As he did so he spotted some large, oddly shaped creatures approaching him.

They looked like women! Three lovely young ladies from the look of their forms, with long black hair. Their bottom halves were clearly tails and fins of a shimmering green tone. Their faces were human-like and pale, ashen grey in the water.

One reached out and grasped his arm with her strong hand. She pulled him lower. As he was yanked down his mouth opened wide from shock and fear, filling his lungs with seawater. The torture was too much to endure. The mermaid's firm grip was an iron handcuff, pulling him down to his doom.

He didn't want to die, now that his fate was being put in strange hands other than his own. He found the will to live again.

'_Transplaner_!' he shouted in his mind, thinking of the beach where he'd been standing just minutes before.

Within moments, he lay in the sand on the shore. He gasped and rolled to one side, throwing up while coughing out the water in his lungs.

_Thank Merlin for my magic...what a damned idiot I am!_

"_Robert_!" Toulouse's voice called out. "Have you completely gone mad?"

"Yes...I _have_! Thank you for...noticing!" he coughed. His chest burned as he continued to hack and choke. The sky had lightened, it was now dawn. Robert looked up to the boy's concerned face.

"What happened?" Toulouse demanded.

"A mermaid…" he managed to say between coughs.

"Whatever it is, you need to go back to the others!" Toulouse said hastily. He grabbed Robert's hand to perform _Transplaner_ back to the shelter.

…

When they arrived back at the little house, the rest were awake, gathered in a tiny sitting room amongst the sort of Rococo chairs that Aloysius liked to conjure. Agathe was awake and un-Petrified, but pale and tired. Marcel and Adelaide shared a settee; the man's hand was still bound in bandages and he looked morose and battle-weary, even as his ladylove reclined beside him.

Several pairs of eyes met Robert's, and he could sense discomfort in all of them.

"I took a swim in the ocean! Is that so bad?" he asked gruffly. None of them needed to know he briefly thought of ending his own life over his condition.

"Robert," said Marcel uncomfortably, "It's all right. We just wanted to know where you were. I'm about to Summon my mother in London and speak with her now. Find out if she's made any of the _Apprivoiser Le Loup_ potion. I think that's what it's called. So here goes…"

Marcel looked at the wall opposite where he and Adelaide were sitting and spoke his mother's name to Summon her. A flash of white lit up the room, and Sabine appeared before them much like a realistic ghost, visible only from the waist up as if she were peeking in a window.

"Marcel, I could tell you're nearer from my Mirror! Where are you?" she asked, her voice a bit echoing from the distance.

"Maman, I made it to England! I landed Felix and Fifi and my old carriage in the countryside, not far from the sea shore," Marcel said in a surprisingly strong and upbeat tone, and Robert could tell that he was unwilling to let her know the hell he'd just been put through.

"But exactly where in England, petit?"

"I don't know how far, but I need to ask you something, Maman. Do you by chance have any _Apprivoiser Le Loup_ potion?"

"I would have to check. I haven't brewed it for a long time, but I took every vial I've made for the past ten years along with me when we traveled," she told him after pondering a moment. "There was one time...I gave some to a wizard from Troyes who claimed his son had been afflicted with a werewolf bite, and I recall using most of the flask on him. I found out he was cured."

Robert's heart pounded with dread that the lady might not even have the precious draught on hand. If there was no hope for him, what could he do now? Where could he go?

"Maman, please look for it," said Marcel. "If you have it we'll come to you as soon as we can! I can't say how far I am from the city, our landing, um...was an emergency so...I don't know."

"Who are you with?"

"A group of friends. Adelaide, and um, some others."

"Were you attacked by a werewolf?" Sabine asked with worry. Robert sighed miserably as he stood in the corner of the room.

"No, it wasn't me. Someone else, he's among us," Marcel replied, giving Robert a pained look. "Tonight's the full moon, and he's here with us, and so-"

"You must get away from any werewolves, friend or not!" Sabine warned.

"You think I don't know that? At least give the man a chance!" Marcel argued.

"I will look through my supplies here at our new home and see," Sabine said. "If I find it, I'm willing to go to you if only you can give me a look at your location right now." After she looked over the room a moment, studying the layout and details while holding up her Mirror, she vanished.

Robert left the room quietly to avoid any words or looks of pity from the others. He sat down on a bed and put a deafening charm on his ears as to not hear anyone speaking. His fate for this night- as well as the safety of his friends- was riding upon a tiny amount of liquid in a lady's cupboard.

Pessimism caused him to descend back into despair as several minutes passed. Outside the tiny window of the bedroom, the bright morning sun cast a warming golden ray. The friendly sun seemed to mock him, for its daughter the moon would take its place in a very short while. Perhaps it would have been better to let the mermaid pull him into the depths of the sea after all.

It was ironic to think as a youngster, his dream had actually been to see a real mermaid.

He hunched over the bed, lungs still aching and clothes still damp, smelling of sea and a bit of the vomit from when he'd choked. He could catch ill from the near drowning, perhaps that could be his blessing...

The small door creaked open; he sensed someone standing next to him putting a warm hand on his shoulder. Opening his eyes he recognized the green-and-gold striped robe de l'anglaise gown and silver rose necklace, the finely-lined face of the tired blonde beauty, her features still flawless.

Handsome lady, Agathe is in this form, Robert thought. Her real age suited her.

She mouthed words, something about Sabine. He kept his Deafening charm, not wishing to hear the dooming news.

Agathe's expression turned into a stern, withering look that made him feel like a fool. He felt his ears pop from her swift removal of his charm. Her voice was loud and sharp as his hearing returned.

"Sabine is coming to deliver potion to you, Robert!"

"What?" he said with disbelief.

"She has one third of a small vial. I only hope it is enough for a man your size."

He nodded weakly, his hope still doubtful.

…

An hour later, at about mid-morning, Sabine was ushered into the small cottage by Marcel and Adelaide. She had apparently been close enough to perform a Transplaner, and she informed them that the city of London was only a two hours' carriage drive by land. The lady looked very well taken care of and of good health. She was dressed in a flowing beige robe gown and gold jewelry.

Sabine embraced her son first, the two glad to be reunited again. She glanced around the room, looking for the man who was a werewolf.

"Who is the man afflicted with _Loup-Garou_?"

The others glanced in Robert's direction while he slumped in a chair, hunched over trying to make himself look small. He was wearing new clean clothes. Sabine pulled the little jar from her dress pocket and examined the liquid inside it. "I didn't expect a man your size, Monsieur. But it's a powerful potion. The least I can do."

"Merci," he replied, humbled. Sabine opened the jar and walked over to the man in the chair. "It is best if you drink it pure rather than mix with water or tea. More potent that way. It shouldn't taste quite as bad as some other potions."

Robert took the jar and drank it down as fast as he could, wincing at the sour taste. He didn't feel any different. "Does this mean that I won't turn into a monster tonight?" he asked her incredulously.

"It worked for someone else," said Sabine. "The shelf life is long, and I believe it gets stronger as it sits."

"Like wine, then?" Robert asked.

"Oui, just like wine." She turned to her friend Aloysius. "It's so good to see that you made it here, Aloysius, _mon ami_! What made you decide to come across the English Channel? Marcel, was it you who decided for them?"

"I had a feeling I ought to," her son admitted. "Safety was the most important thing on my mind, Maman. I had to make a quick decision to get out of France."

...

Agathe- who had been reclining and recovering from her curse in a bedroom away from the others- came into the small sitting room. She knew that Madame Sabine still held a grudge against her. She preferred to avoid any conflict or argument about the past.

"Madame Sabine," Agathe began, "thank you for what you just did to help this man."

"You're welcome," Sabine replied graciously, her face softening in a way that told Agathe she did not mean ill will.

Agathe gestured her hand to Marcel. "Your son won't admit it to you, but he is one of the bravest wizards I've ever met in my life. We encountered some trouble on the journey. I was cursed and rendered unconscious part of the way. Marcel brought us to safety."

Sabine beamed with pride at him. When she noticed her son's hand wrapped in fabric, she used her wand to quickly heal his blisters and burns within minutes. Adelaide embraced them both in gratitude.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Aloysius, "as much as I like this little house I conjured, we will have to pack it all up and move on. Let's hitch the horses and we will go to London with you, Madame Sabine."

"Please! You must join my family for dinner and stay awhile," Sabine insisted.

…

Aloysius and Marcel took turns with the reins of the carriage while Madame Sabine guided them to London by land. They arrived in the city by late afternoon and entered a modest neighborhood, not unlike the Paris quartier where Sabine, Adelaide, and Toulouse had lived. It was busy and bustling, and the Sans-Magie people were speaking a different language. To them, the city seemed to lack charm and joy. They couldn't help noticing many unhappy soldiers milling about.

"The English _Sans-Magies_ are losing one of their senseless wars," Sabine said to Aloysius, as he drove along the streets cramped with coaches and carriages of all sorts. "A battalion of soldiers returned home, the lucky ones at least. The city is full of widows whose men died across the great ocean."

Aloysius nodded, but said nothing. He didn't want to think about the mess back in France that was the Enchanted society there, nor the fact Sabine's son created a widow from his actions of war.

Aloysius had still not told Agathe about Alexis' death. She had been unconscious when it happened. Aloysius hoped that perhaps Marcel would break the news to her.

Alexis Sauvageon had been family. The previous night had been a tragedy and triumph, as all battles were.

...

A building in the shabby-looking neighborhood, a dark brick structure with odd gargoyles on its gables, was Madame Sabine's new home. The bottom floor featured a business sign that said "Furniture" in English.

"My dear Hami Daniel's shop," Sabine told Aloysius. "Business is slow but steady."

They parked the horses at a common stable in the back, and Sabine led them all inside the building and up two flights of stairs. The stairs led to a foyer and a pleasant suite of rooms. The floor of the foyer was covered with a colorful rug. Vases of lavender and purple flowers lay about.

"Let me show you around," said Sabine. "My sister Celeste and her husband Edouard are making a meal. I'm certain you must be famished!"

"We are, thank you," said Marcel gratefully, speaking for all of them.

"Is it all right to let my cat wander about?" Adelaide asked, cradling Lorette in her arms.

"Of course. Celeste has a cat, they will hopefully get along," Sabine replied. Adelaide set her cat down; Lorette skittered away to explore the interesting rooms.

The group was pleased to discover how Sabine and her brother in law, Edouard, had magicked the place to create so many rooms. Though the furniture shop building itself looked slummish and poor from the exterior, the inside was reminiscent of a smaller version of the suites of L'Hotel de Brumagne, at least to Aloysius and Adelaide.

Robert nervously glanced at a large clock over the hearth of a fireplace. It was already five minutes after six in the evening. He was not a monstrous wolf. And he was alive, rather than pulled by unfriendly mermaids into the depths of the sea.

...

Madame Sabine showed the guests into the warm and pleasant kitchen area for dinner. She introduced them to her husband, furniture maker Hami Daniel Djokoto, as well as Celeste and Edouard Guerin, the parents of Monique.

Celeste resembled Sabine, a graceful dark beauty several years younger than her sister. Like Plumette, Celeste was not Magical at all. Edouard was a fair-complexioned middle aged wizard with a quiet, stern demeanor.

"Where is Monique today, Madame?" Adelaide asked Celeste while she offered to help set the table with china dishes. "I met your daughter, she's a sweet girl."

"Yesterday we sent her off to start her new school, Mademoiselle," Celeste replied. "She was nervous, but she loved the caravan of red coaches when she saw them. I do hope she is making new friends."

Her husband Edouard nodded. "England is much kinder than France when it comes to partial blood Enchanters. At least most of them are in that school. Anyone hostile to them are controlled by the headmaster and the Ministry. She will be safe."

"When will she come home to you?" Adelaide asked the couple as she and Celeste set dishes around the long wooden table.

"Likely not until December, Adelaide," Marcel told her. He carried a large tureen of soup with his now healed-hands, setting it on the table. "It's a boarding school, like the one I went to."

He sat down next to Robert, who was still staring at a clock on the wall, wringing his hands with stress. Marcel leaned toward Robert and whispered in his ear.

"Robert, just have faith. It's well into the evening now. Trust the potion. It will not happen."

Robert stared ahead at the clock and nodded. Marcel saw the big man's pale blue eyes were badly bloodshot from what had happened to him in the sea. He, too, hoped that the potion was powerful enough, considering his size.

Adelaide was telling the sisters she hoped to reunite with Monique someday. "If I ever have children, I would hate to send them away from me for so long," she blurted out as she joined Marcel at the table. "Lovely roses," she added, noticing the centerpiece that hadn't been there.

"If the two of you have a child together, there is a good chance it may be _Sans-Magie,_" said Sabine matter-of-factly.

"Maman, it's too early to be thinking about _that_," Marcel said with a bit of embarrassment. Adelaide blushed the color of the roses on the table.

There had not been any roses on the table a few minutes before, but there had now appeared vases of bright red ones, popping up all around the dining room, obviously conjured. Aloysius gave Agathe a curious look, but she said nothing.

"But for that to happen, you must be bound in marriage," continued Sabine. She noticed the new roses and touched one with her finger, admiring it. "Marcel, I will introduce you and Adelaide to my new English friend. Friar Thomas."

"Who's that?" asked Marcel.

"He's a half-blood wizard in town, who spent time in a _Sans-Magie_ monastery. He refrained from using magic for months, until the suppressed magic inside him caused some chaos. Explosions and flying dishes. Things the poor frightened monks thought were caused by evil spirits. So Thomas had to leave. He wrote a book about his ordeal, and it's required reading at Monique's new school."

Toulouse, sitting on the other side of Robert at the table, perked up in interest. "That definitely sounds like a book I would want to read."

"I have a translated French copy. You may borrow it," said Sabine kindly.

Her hungry guests began tucking into the dinner of hot onion soup, fruits, cheeses and bread. Sabine's husband Hami Daniel set a large tankard of French-made ale on the table to pass around along with the water and tea. Robert and Edouard poured it into their goblets. Robert wished to celebrate his hopeful cure in secret, and a good French ale was the best way.

It was nearly seven o' clock. No transformation. It worked!

"His book is called _An Experiment of Abstinence_," Sabine told the curious Toulouse. "People read the title and think it's about abstinence of the sensual and carnal kind, how to endure it. Plus the fact it's written by a friar."

Everyone laughed, Robert spluttering his ale mid-swig as he chuckled. Marcel nudged Adelaide's ankle with his foot underneath the table, which led to the two playing with each other's feet discreetly. Adelaide blushed again.

"If a Magical person reads his book, it's full of theories about the human mind when it comes to Enchantment. How magic cannot be suppressed," Sabine explained. "However, if a _Sans-Magie_ picks the book up and reads it, it's about prayer and eating grains and cheese and 'thinking pure and high thoughts' instead of about someone's body. The man is brilliant."

"Then I definitely want to borrow it, Madame, thank you," said Toulouse. "The _wizard's_ version," he added.

"I'll borrow it after you, Toulouse," said Marcel.

"But Marcel," Robert cut in, "You can't get the advice from that book you would need. Better have Adelaide read_ her_ version aloud to you," he teased, his good humor returning. He managed to pull embarrassed smiles from both of them.

"That's very interesting, Madame," said Aloysius, who poured himself a cup of tea. "What happened to him in the monastery is probably the reason why even the inmates of _La Maison des Crimes Noirs_ are allowed to do magic in prison," he opined.

"I'm glad you're making new friends here, Maman. But what does this Thomas person have to do with Adelaide and I being engaged?" Marcel asked. Beneath the table, he and Adelaide had their ankles wrapped around each other in a secret flirtation.

"Friar Thomas makes a living as an un-ordained clergyman and counselor for both _Sans-Magies_ and wizards," his mother replied with enthusiasm. "He has the permission to join couples in marriage. He's one of the few wizards in London who will perform a ceremony of union between a _Sans-Magie_ and a Magical. In other words- I'm arranging your wedding."

Marcel and Adelaide looked at each other with thinly veiled joy. They reached for more slices of Brie cheese and ate them, trying to be decent above the table while they caressed each other's ankles and legs below it.

"This week, I am going to take you both to meet with him," said Sabine in a no-nonsense tone. "I think Friar Thomas could have you wed very soon. Sooner than you think."

"That soon, Maman? You...must really like Adelaide then," Marcel said, grasping Adelaide's hand. The young woman was rendered speechless, shyly put on the spot.

"I am fond of you, Adelaide. I'm truly glad you're not Magical, and you make my boy happy, just like Jacinta is so happy with her Francois," said Sabine in a sentimental tone. "Twenty years ago, I would have never believed I'd accept-" Her voice broke as she leaned against her husband. Hami Daniel took her hand, squeezing it in compassion.

"I miss Jacinta so much," she said quietly.

Agathe- the one person who did not speak or laugh at anyone's jokes during dinner and the conjurer of the roses- spoke up.

"Madame, the castle where Jacinta and her husband live is guaranteed a safe haven. You must trust me that there is no better place," She spoke in a manner that was not meant to boast about her power, but to reassure all of them the facts. "I've secured it with my strongest enchantments ever. Not only the castle, but the village nearby. I cast the charms to protect a royal couple, but they will shield everyone within that region from enemies."

Sabine nodded to Agathe with acceptance and looked to her son and his beloved girl. "Marcel and Adelaide, after you two are married, we will return to France within the next year. War or no war. I wish to be with both of my children, together again. We were apart for much too long."

"Madame, please accept my apology for the circumstances of the past," said Agathe. "I will do everything I can for your family's well being and happiness from now on."

Sabine nodded. "Merci," she whispered, still holding her husband's hand. On the other side of the table, Marcel and Adelaide clasped hands as well.

...

During this warm moment of peace and reconciliation between the two women, Marcel studied Agathe's expression. He was struck with a horrible pang of guilt while he forced himself to lock eyes with the woman he used to resent, the Enchantress who saved his life in that prison cell.

Agathe gave him a kind and solemn look, but her emotions were so hard for Marcel to read. While on their journey, she'd said very little to him after her return to consciousness. She hadn't spoken one word to him, in fact.

Did Aloysius tell her about the presence of her nephew Alexis in the battle? Was she informed of his death while she rested in bed that morning? She could not have seen who hit her with the Petrifier curse during the chaos. Alexis was flying behind her when he cast it.

Marcel was horror-struck to realize that Agathe might not know.

Despite the bubbly excitement and joyful passion between him and Adelaide during dinner, the feel of her ankle entwined with his, her blushing cheeks and the delicious distraction her love gave him, the cold reality of last night returned. He squeezed Adelaide's hand and she squeezed back, yet another silent communication between them, her comforting presence and gentle love always there.

Marcel struggled with his own sentimental grief over Alexis Sauvageon, as much pain as he felt over killing Coach Quill.

He could not believe that Alexis was dead. And that _he_ killed him, in such a horrific way. Alexis was Agathe's own family, but Marcel was certain he'd heard her voice in his mind, telling him to attempt that curse while he fought. He could not understand it. There was no way he could ask about it in the middle of polite company. He would need to face her alone.

...


	25. Kisses in the Rain

Chapter 25- Kisses in the Rain

…

"Agathe?"

Marcel finally found a moment when she was unaccompanied by Aloysius. She sat at a desk in one of the many spare bedrooms Sabine and Edouard had built by conjuring. The family's 'apartment' was almost like a mini-hotel, hidden in such a humble part of London. Nearly everyone else had gone to sleep that night.

"Good evening, Marcel. Why are you still awake? Such a long exhausting day with travel and all," Agathe replied in a stuffed up voice, as if she had a slight cold- or had been crying. She held a quill pen in her slender, slightly aging fingers. A paper was on the desk.

"I was wondering the same about you." He stepped all the way into the room, bracing himself for the confession.

"I'm writing to my brother," said Agathe.

"Your _brother_? Regarding-"

"The death of his son," she said sadly.

Marcel sucked in a breath. "Who told you? Aloysius? What did he s-"

"I am a _Lecteur d'Esprit _just like my nephew was. The moment my eyes met yours at dinner, I saw everything that happened the other night. You transformed Alexis into a beast. It looked as if the shock of it, the loss of his human hands, caused him to lose grip of his broom and fall."

"I don't know for a fact if he's dead-"

"He _is_ dead, and you killed one of his men by the freezing curse."

She held back tears, but Marcel wasn't quite sure if the tears were for her nephew, or for him, or for herself.

"But I didn't tell you and Aloysius. The others didn't see what I saw."

"You don't realize how adept I am in mind magic. I connected my mind to yours before I was Petrified, to help you in battle. It's a gift that I've often misused. I've misused a lot of my power in the past."

"I don't _care_ about your damn mind power right now," he said irritably. This woman had to constantly flaunt how superior she was. He was reminded again how and why he used to hate her. "The fact is I killed him. It was _my _doing. I just wanted to tell you I'm truly so-"

She cut him off sharply. "Save it! No apologies, please. If anything, if I could turn back time, Marcel, I'd concentrate on my own flesh and blood when it came to encouraging correction and redemption."

"What do you _mean_? You couldn't have ever-"

"Alexis _could_ have made the choice to be a decent man," she said with sorrow. "He grew up knowing hate and never explored the possibility of _Sans-Magies_ being human beings with hearts and intelligence like you and me. I only ventured out to discover the outside world because I was a misfit in my family."

"Everything has to be about you, doesn't it?"

She ignored his judgment. "I was a girl with opinions, and desire to have adventure. Who wanted to use her power for things besides practical household tasks and birthing pureblood children. I went out and learned about the world. I am so grieved now, because perhaps I could've had a better influence on Alexis if I'd spent more time with him while he was growing up. When he was very small, I was like a big sister to him."

"I doubt that, Agathe," said Marcel. "He wasn't the kind of person to be influenced by anyone. You watched what he did in that Mirror. He wanted to be in charge and do what _Alexis_ wanted, to hell with others! He even cursed _Bertrand's_ mind. He wanted to be Minister!"

"I suppose you're right," said Agathe.

"Can you explain something? Your voice in my head told me to use _L'Interieur Dehors_ on him and so I did. How did that happen?"

"My mind magic. The connection I made with you. My direction came to you when you needed it most. The moment when you needed my message the most, was the moment Alexis was determined to burn you to death."

Marcel flinched at the much-too-recent memory of that excruciating fight. "Yes...and thank you for that mind magic. It saved my life, _again_."

"You saved your _own_ life, and all of ours. I was Petrified for hours. And as far as my late nephew and his actions, I want to ask you, Marcel- have you ever fallen off a broom in your life?"

"Of course! Plenty of times. I was a _Boule de Plume_ player."

"Did you ever allow yourself to fall from a dangerous height?"

"Am I a ghost of a dead man, Agathe? What do you _think_?" he replied, thinking her question was stupid. "I used _Arrêter l'élan _every time I slipped off a broom while in action. It's the first charm you have to master before you even learn to mount a broom in the first place!"

"I think Alexis was capable of saving himself, even as a beast. He could have slowed down his fall if he were awake and conscious. Do you understand where I'm going?"

Realization came to him a moment later. "He could've saved himself after I cursed him if he chose to? Slowed his fall from the broom and somehow...I guess, live as a beast?" His eyes widened in shock at the idea. "Could he have _survived_? Because if he did, I can set up a Breakage Clause and-"

"Aloysius and I consulted his Mirror this evening, an hour ago," Agathe interrupted, shaking her head with reddened eyes. "A Mirror wouldn't lie unless someone tampers with it like I did with Bertrand's crystal ball. The answer it gave us was that he is dead, Marcel. He died on impact when he hit the water as a beast."

Marcel looked down at the floor. "It's so hard to believe."

"When you first met my nephew, you looked up to him. He gave you a direction in life. You had nothing to do, living aimlessly after you were kicked off the _Faucons_ team. And I had erased your memory of Jacinta, like I did for every relative of Prince Adam's household."

"Can you _please_ get out of my mind?" he said with irritation, realizing she was reading into his memories that very moment.

"Yes. If you let me be alone to write to my brother Auguste in peace. I am going to tell him what Aloysius and I know of what happened to Alexis, without disclosing my new location. Close the door, dear, and _bonne nuit_."

"Good night," Marcel said, shutting her door quietly.

While walking through the empty dining room and upstairs to another bedroom, he felt a sense of relief and closure, yet mixed with the discomfort Agathe always gave him. The woman could be so arrogant, so controlling. He did not appreciate her looking into his thoughts, and looked forward to the day he and Adelaide could part ways with her.

…

When Marcel woke the next morning, he was aware of the presence of Robert Lefebrve snoring away in the small bed next to his. He'd been so tired he didn't realize who shared the room.

Seeing the man sleeping peacefully was a relief, knowing that his mother had enough potion to cure him for at least _this _moon. There would be only a little time for Sabine and Aloysius to work together to acquire the ingredients and brew more. Robert would need to medicate himself regularly for the rest of his life.

Raindrops pelted the tiny circular window in the room, but there was enough daylight to tell it was well into morning. "Robert!" he whispered.

The man didn't stir, so Marcel left the room for fifteen minutes in search of an Enchanted washing room. When he came back, washed and shaved and wearing a decent clean outfit, Robert was awake. He lay splay-legged in bed wearing an unbuttoned, wrinkled beige shirt and apparently, nothing else.

Unaware of his companion who'd just walked in, Robert stared up at the ceiling with a smile of bliss on his bearded face, while intensely occupied with something rather private.

At least _this_ was better than him rampaging as a vicious wolf, Marcel thought with a shake of his head. He left his roommate alone, quickly and quietly as possible.

...

Adelaide was enjoying crumpets, fruit and tea along with Sabine, Celeste, and Aloysius at the table when Marcel joined them.

"Good morning!" Adelaide greeted him. She wore a pretty new mauve dress. Marcel gave his mother a peck on the cheek 'good morning' before he sat beside Adelaide, draping his arm casually around the back of her chair.

"Where did the other men go off to, are they up?" he asked.

"Hami Daniel went down to work in the shop. Edouard went to another big meeting with some people at the English Ministry, to discuss the French situation. He's trying to get their support. Toulouse went out to explore the neighborhood just because he's curious," said Sabine. "Is Monsieur Lefebrve up?"

"Oh yes," said Marcel. "He's up." _In more ways than one,_ he thought. "He'll be down soon, I'm sure. I guess he wants to, um...relax and enjoy the fact he's stayed human on a full-moon night. Maman, are you going to brew enough potion for him for the future?"

Sabine looked to Aloysius, whose expression was unsure. "Yes. We plan to, although the ingredients are so expensive. I asked for a loan from the bank, and Aloysius and I just sent a letter to Monique's school. Their faculty has the only remaining ingredients locked up," she told him with discomfort. "It all depends upon how sympathetic the person in charge of potions would be to random werewolves."

"Madame, you're so kind and charitable, to do this for a total stranger!" Adelaide said. "Why do they lock up potion ingredients at a school?"

"Because some ingredients are illegal," said Sabine. "Some potions are even illegal to make and sell in the city limits of Enchanted London. Not the werewolf cure. Only a few others."

"Like a certain kind of love potion, most likely," said Aloysius. "Adelaide, remember when I mentioned love potion to you? It's legal in France but controlled here."

"I remember," said Adelaide. "It sounded very creepy to me. The one that caused fake love."

"I wish it wasn't legal in our country," said Marcel, his expression darkening. "That one should be outlawed completely. _Everywhere_." He slammed a spoon on the table, so hard it made Adelaide flinch. She gave him a confused look.

"Are you all right, Marcel?" she asked him with concern.

"Maman, is it alright if Adelaide and I go spend some time alone?" Marcel asked Sabine and the others.

"I don't see why not," his mother replied. "I was going to have you visit Friar Thomas, but perhaps that should wait until another day. You need days of rest before a wedding, which is such a joyous time. Go to the balcony, it's on the left after the second staircase."

"Thank you, Maman," Marcel had the feeling she, too, was starting to control both him and his fianceé. It was her home, nevertheless. He beckoned Adelaide to walk with him.

…

"You can talk to me about anything that's bothering you," Adelaide said when they were alone on an iron-fenced balcony overlooking the rainy street. Dreary buildings covered the landscape as far as the eye could see. Marcel set a charm to keep both of them warm and dry.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "It's just..._everything_. Everything is bothering me, and I wish someone could just erase my memory back to the time when you and I were on that coach ride over the land, with your sister and everyone, and you didn't know about magic...and I still trusted Alexis."

"He's dead...isn't he?" Adelaide asked in a solemn whisper.

"Yes. You don't have to worry about him hurting you, ever again."

They stood for a while embracing, luxuriating in each other's presence and listening to the raindrops.

"Your mother thinks we should get married in only a few days...do you think she's rushing it?" Adelaide asked, breaking the lull.

"Probably." He laughed lightly. "I'd like us to just...court each other for a while. We haven't had the chance to even talk alone since we were in the castle. And even there, we were surrounded by my sister and her husband and the other staff most of the time."

"I agree," said Adelaide, giving him that smile of hers, the one that never failed to bring light back into his heart and soul. "I want us to do _normal_ things together. No wizard battles in the sky. No brooms, no flying carriages. Is that...possible? To tell the truth, I miss Emilie, my sister. And the life I used to have."

"Adelaide, as long as we're here, away from Bertrand's people, we _can _do that. Be normal. For a short time."

"And then maybe soon, we can go to your mother's friend, and marry. Do you...feel the same way?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes, Adelaide. I _do_ feel the same. Don't ever believe I don't want you badly."

She eagerly went for his lips once more. When he pulled her in, their kiss was the longest, deepest they'd shared for many days. The sound of the rain on the balcony made it even sweeter.

When they parted, he bent down to kiss her neck and shoulder, taking in the fragrance of her hair, tasting her flushed soft skin. She gave a long sigh from what sounded like pure ecstasy. They embraced long and hard, both wishing they could be physically closer than they already were.

"Adelaide," he said after lifting his lips from the sweet spot between her neck and shoulder, "What do you wish for yourself in the future?"

"I guess...to have what your sister Plumette and Francois have with each other. And what Gaston and Emilie now have. And perhaps...to be a mother." She blinked back happy tears.

He squeezed her around the hips, alight with joy and hope. "So do I. Your sister and my sister are in France living their cozy lives, and I want to return to them as much as you do. You heard my mother say the same."

"I do hope we can all go back. My dream is to be in that beautiful castle, perhaps as a maid. Being a mere maid sounds so lowly, but your sister and all of the others are living a blessed life."

"It's a very happy place. A charmed and protected place. But I know as soon as we go back on French soil, I guarantee Bertrand and his men will be waiting. It makes me angry, Adelaide. I wish they would all be vanquished once and for all. Your dream is to live like my sister in that castle and have a big family. Mine is for Enchanteds of all families to enjoy liberty and freedom."

"I know," said Adelaide. "Whatever it takes. Whatever can be done, even if it means...more fighting."

She blinked her damp eyelashes, but did not cry. "Let's _please_ not talk about them for awhile. I want to take time for _us_. For me to know everything about _you_. I want to know more about those games you played, and those fluff-ball rodent pets. And if they held fancy balls at your school."

"They did have fancy balls," Marcel replied. "It wasn't too different from what you might've seen at the Prince's castle or the Marquis' chateau. We learned the minuet. I thought it was stuffy and boring."

"Do you remember the name of any girl you enjoyed dancing the minuet with?" Adelaide asked, her tone growing more lighthearted and playful as their conversation went on.

Marcel sensed she was doing her best to drag him out of the darkness, away from harsh recent memories, and back into the simplicity of joy, of love. And he wanted her to.

He glanced into the rainy sky and made a thoughtful face. "Never enjoyed that kind of thing. All right, _maybe_ Bernadette Bijou. She was friendly and decent. Couldn't tell if she was pretty or not under all that cakey makeup."

"Reminds me of Lady Evangeline," Adelaide said, referring again to the royal girl she used to serve. "She looked prettier without makeup, but I had to apply it on her and do her hair. It was my job as her lady's maid. I've always liked to put a little makeup on myself, because it covered up my pimple scars. My poor sister Emilie...well, she was scarred from smallpox for a long time, you know."

"Yes, I know that story, you told me a few times. Aloysius had a hand in helping her. And actually I think you're pretty with or without makeup."

"Thank you...I've never been considered that pretty. I'm bigger than most girls, and rather dumpy. Everyone's told me so since I was a child. It means so much to hear that."

"All I see is beauty, and I want to someday open you like a gift," he said insistently, moving to kiss her face and forehead again and again. He squeezed her hips and bottom, though the act took his restraint over the edge. He held her tighter to his own body; a delicious heat coursed between them. Adelaide gasped and pulled away, overcome with emotion.

"Mmm...um, maybe we need to go back inside soon, and have some bread and cheese?" she asked, reclaiming her breath, letting her heart rate calm.

"I think you're right." He laughed, catching his breath. "Let's talk about something else as a distraction."

"Such as?"

"Tell me more about Emilie and Gaston. I'm still glad I helped him to be pardoned by Prince Adam. I like your story about how they fell in love."

Adelaide's smile grew. "Okay! Well, you know that Aloysius healed Emilie and Gaston," Adelaide said eagerly, her cheeks still crimson from their heated embrace. "It was his special kind of love potion. They were healed from smallpox scars when they shared their first kiss. Isn't that magical? Well, of _course_ it's magical!"

"Makes sense."

"Now, I wonder what it would do for you and me if _we_ took it? Your Maman's been healing your injuries, and I don't have much except bruises from the broom...I'm babbling again, aren't I?"

"Yes. But I like your babbling."

"Thank you. Most people think I'm annoying when I go off on a ramble. Anyway, it was named _La Potion d'Amour Guérisseur. _It's no coincidence that it shares its name with Aloysius' name. I wonder if it's illegal in London..."

She paused for a moment, looking at him. "Marcel, _why_ did you seem so angry when we were talking about potions at breakfast? You said some of them should be outlawed. Has anyone ever poisoned you with them? Was a friend or loved one of yours poisoned?"

His smile faded. "Some potions are used in the worst ways."

"Were you ever given potion without knowing?"

"Yes," said Marcel, averting his gaze.

"Oh. I'm sorry," said Adelaide.

Marcel didn't want to speak of certain embarrassing memories from his youth. How he had been the victim of love potion slipped in wine by two separate Enchanted girls, on two different occasions. One of them, an enchantress named Roxanne, managed to seduce him into her bed. His memory of that experience was fuzzy and dreamlike. He was eighteen then, and the girl spoiled what he had hoped to save for his true love. His friends had laughed and called it 'getting lucky.'

It would definitely hurt Adelaide's feelings if she knew about those things in his past. She might think badly of him.

With relief, he could tell that she was thinking about something else at the moment. Her mouth opened eagerly as he recalled a new story she wanted to tell.

"I remember something! You weren't there, you were still in the prison. But the day I met your mother, my brother-in-law Gaston let himself in her house, uninvited. He started boasting and running his mouth off about 'warlocks' in an Enchanted home. Your Maman was worried, so she slipped him a sleeping potion. He passed out on the sofa. Just in time, because Sauvageon came! He and another wizard burst inside her home, breaking the window- and they had a battle right in front of me! Putting Gaston to sleep was for his own safety. It made perfect sense for her to slip him that potion. That wasn't wrong in _my_ opinion."

"What?" said Marcel, shocked at this new account. "You were in the room? Sauvageon was in my mother's house and he started a fight? Was anyone hurt?"

"Toulouse was hurt by that older wizard who was with Sauvageon. But the odd thing was that Sauvageon healed him. I think he healed Toulouse only because he and Aloysius gave themselves up to be arrested, and taken to the prison where you were!"

"Because they were planning to rescue _us_!" Marcel exclaimed, now aware of more details behind the whole breakout scheme. "It must have been the same day...Adelaide, I can't believe you were _there_ in the middle of it. You could have been killed!"

"But I wasn't. So don't worry about me. What happened then doesn't matter."

He managed a smile again. "Okay. But how did Sauvageon _not_ hurt someone like your brother in law? Him, a _Sans-Magie,_ lying there on my mother's sofa? That's just bizarre."

"I told Sauvageon that Gaston was a wizard from Wales named John Smith. He and that other man almost started to believe me. Then, Toulouse hit the older wizard with his bee curse. That man was distracted for a moment, I guess."

Marcel shook his head, trying not to laugh. "Unreal! For Merlin's sake, that is _unreal_, Adelaide! You are honestly something else." He beamed with growing joy, holding her close. "You were a warrior, in your own way! I _love _it."

She'd done it again; she pulled him back into sunshine and light.

"It makes me feel safe knowing Sauvageon is dead. That's the truth," said Adelaide softly.

"I thought you wanted to talk about pleasant things today. I know I do."

She nodded. "Yes. Pleasant things. I'd like to take a walk in the rain with you. This is London, why not have fun here?"

"I don't see why not." Marcel waved his hand and conjured two umbrellas, a red one and a blue one. "I'll keep the drying charm around us, but we'll carry umbrellas so nobody thinks we're odd to be dry in the rain."

"Are there Enchanted hangouts here?"

"Probably. I don't know where they are, everything is secret. I wouldn't find them unless I was told by a local."

They managed to find a flight of stairs to the bottom, slipping out of the building after passing through Sabine's husband's furniture shop and into the street.

The two of them walked with their umbrellas along the rainy and dreary streets of London for an hour or two, talking about anything that came to mind. Adelaide was pleased to hear Marcel speak politely to the locals in what sounded like perfect English; her heart swelled with love. He avoided touching her and holding her hand, however, and he explained that 'they had to be careful.' For a moment, she assumed it was because of wizards not approving of their romance. She realized then that _Sans-Magie_ society did not approve of them being together, either.

It just wasn't fair, she thought.

Despite their secrecy, they hopped over puddles and horse dung together, laughing about everything and nothing, all at once. The rain cleared when they got back to the building.

…

That evening Marcel ended up roommates with Robert again in the small bedroom.

"Where were you earlier, _mon ami_?" asked the older man, lounging in the same wrinkled shirt though blessedly with his breeches on. He was reading a book by candlelight.

"Out with Adelaide. What are you reading?"

"That Friar Thomas' book. Toulouse already read it, devoured it in three hours. But this version is a bore. Everyone knows you can't force yourself to not do magic for a long time! Or else you'll go insane and set off explosions. It's common knowledge, for Merlin's sake! I don't understand all this damn fancy scientific babble and big words and stuff." He tossed the book on the table between them.

Marcel picked it up and thumbed through it, squinting at the big words and science mumbo jumbo. "You're right. What a nightmare of a book. This was written by the fellow my Maman wants to preside over our wedding ceremony. He's way too smart, I hope he doesn't ask me and Adelaide too many hard questions."

"It's a wedding, not an interview to a university! He'll be doing you a great favor, _mon ami. _Not too many wizards perform cross-marriages. Outlawed in France now. So I suggest you take the opportunity to marry that sweet lady while you can."

"Thanks, Robert! So, would _you_ ever get married if you don't transform any longer?"

"I don't know," he said, shrugging. "Haven't come to that yet. I'm not that old. Thirty nine or forty, I think."

"You do...want women, don't you?"

"_Very _much. You know, I'm _not_ into men. I was joking all that time. Loved seeing your reaction." He laughed loudly. Marcel made a face of pure relief, he couldn't help himself.

"So you weren't thinking of _me_ earlier- I mean-"

The large man threw his head back and laughed even louder, likely waking up Aloysius in the next room. "_Non_. I'm afraid not, Marcel. I don't lean that way. Joke's on you."

"Maybe you could go out and meet someone soon. It might, I don't know- make you happier."

"I'll take your advice. Should I shave my beard?"

"That's up to you," Marcel laughed. "Adelaide would be the one you should ask. She used to do hair in her old job. She likes when I have a short beard, she says it's manly."

"Sweet thing, your Adelaide is. I'd imagine her body would be a _feast_, so soft and voluptuous, curves everywhere-"

"Quit drooling over my girl!" Marcel grabbed a pillow and flung it at Robert.

"Have you had her yet?"

"_What_? No! I haven't," Marcel said, defending her honor. "She's not to 'have' until she becomes my wife."

"I _thought_ you were one of those morality types. You ought to have Adelaide read that damned book right there, but in the Good Friar's _Sans-Magie_ edition!" He gestured to the Friar Thomas book on the table and grinned wolfishly. "You must be a burning volcano of passion, _mon ami._ About to explode just like a wizard who hasn't said a spell for a year. You ought to take up my morning habit."

Marcel choked back a laugh. Now he remembered why he and Robert became friends in prison. His crude, coarse manners were the perfect foil to Agathe's proper airs, and he simply provided a diversion in the midst of that hellish place.

"I _am_ a burning volcano, you're right!" he bantered back. "But good things come to those who wait. As long as Adelaide reins both of us in, I'll _win_ this war of the flesh."

"Admirable, son. But I won't wait now that I'm a _free man!_ Tomorrow I'm going on the prowl. Women here _love_ Frenchmen, especially ones with muscles like mine." Robert flexed his arms.

"You've never met Adelaide's brother in law?" Marcel asked.

"No. Why?" grunted the larger man.

"No reason, I suppose," Marcel said, still holding back laughter. He rummaged in the drawer and took out some Enchanted French coins. He transformed them in his palm to a few English pounds sterling.

"Here, you'll need these," he said casually, tossing the coins to Robert.

"_Merci beaucoup_!" said Robert, grinning.

...


	26. Le Ministère, Revisited

Chapter 26- Le Ministère, Revisited

...

A few days later, Marcel was awakened by tapping on the small window of the bedroom he shared with Robert. It was a bird with a rolled-up scroll of paper in its beak.

"Another letter!" he exclaimed as he jumped out of the bed and reached to try to yank the circular window open. He couldn't find a latch so he resorted to magic. When the glass disappeared, the bird- which Marcel noticed was an owl, not a dove- dropped the scroll and flew back out.

Marcel unrolled the letter and started to read it.

"Is that for you, or for me?" said Robert, now awake from the blast of chill air.

"It's to me, Robert." Marcel made an incredulous face as he read, mumbling under his breath. "This could be a setup...could be someone _else_ in that family...he could be _full _of it for all I know-"

"What's going on?" Robert demanded. "_Who's_ full of it?"

"Here, _mon ami,_ hold this letter while I get up and dress. It's from an old childhood friend of mine. I have to get hold of a Mirror and talk to him right away. If this is true, he might be the help we need to go back and win the war!"

"How many damned people are you in conspiracy with? Can I help?"

"Maybe. But I have to talk to Agathe and Aloysius first."

Marcel hastily put on a pair of breeches and tucked his blouse in them. He took the letter back from Robert and sped out of the room, in search of Agathe and Aloysius.

Soon afterward, he contacted that letter writer by using Aloysius' Magic Mirror. Adelaide grew worried as she watched him run upstairs from the kitchen with it, bringing it into his bedroom.

"Marcel, can you please tell me what you're doing?" Adelaide said. The door upstairs slammed as he shut himself in alone. Adelaide went to listen at the door, not caring whether or not eavesdropping was rude. She heard him speaking lightheartedly at first to what sounded like a friend, then in a low, serious tone with the faraway person on the other end. Adelaide started to press her ear to the door.

"_If you're with Claude, let me talk to him right now to prove it-"_

Adelaide was wondering who 'Claude' was, when suddenly her ears began to fill with loud harpsichord music- so loud it was painful. She clapped her hands over her ears and rushed down the stairs to where Sabine and Celeste sat in the dining room.

"_Who_ is playing that harpsichord?" she exclaimed, fingers in her ears. It didn't seem to help. The music sounded like it was playing inside her brain itself.

"No one, Mademoiselle," said Sabine. "There aren't any harpsichords to be found here."

Agathe and Aloysius came into the room to join them. "Good morning ladies, I will gladly take one of those croissants, they smell wonderful." Aloysius greeted.

Robert joined them a moment later. "Madame, I was helping your husband lift and carry some furniture. Not with magic, with my arms, of course!" he told Sabine.

"Merci, Monsieur Lefebrve," said Sabine. "I am sure Hami appreciates your help. You do look like you would make a good carpenter. Or a stonemason, who could lift heavy bricks."

The loud music in Adelaide's head stopped, once the room was filled with lively people and Marcel was still talking to someone upstairs. Had her dear fiancé actually _cursed_ her? It was an amusing kind of curse, more what the Enchanteds called a 'hex.' She deserved it for trying to eavesdrop.

After they ate and drank tea for some time, Marcel came running down the stairs. He'd lost the humor and happiness that dominated his mood the last three days. His look of fiery determination and stress made Adelaide's heart sink.

"I'm taking my coach and flying back to Paris!" he announced. "I have to meet with two of our allies. We planned a mission. Who's willing to join me?" He looked to Adelaide and noticed her distraught look. "Not you, my love. You _must _stay here."

Adelaide's blood boiled. "_What_ mission?" she exclaimed. "Whatever it is, I am _not _being left behind with no chance to return home to my family!"

The next several minutes were filled with a heated argument- shouting, tears, and debate. Marcel was hesitant to reveal details, for fear of someone watching and listening to them by Mirror or crystal ball. As a result, Agathe used her power of _Lecteur_ _d' Esprit._ She learned the entire mission without Marcel needing to say a word.

Agathe and Aloysius had their say in the matter. Aloysius' wisdom could not be argued with. He knew what it felt like to lose the love of his life. He'd lived more years than he had left, and he did not want the young couple to be doomed. He sided with Adelaide.

Like a judge, Aloysius had the final word. Marcel deferred to the idea of the two cousins. He could trust their powers and abilities- trust them with his life.

…

In Paris, the senior _Le_ _Ministère_ officer, Nicholas-Armitage Roux, walked with a bowed head across the grand atrium of the headquarters building. He'd sensed the news even before the truth was confirmed in his Mirror earlier that week.

Sauvageon died in battle. Struck with a Transformation curse, almost identical to the one his notorious aunt Agathe was known for. He'd toppled off his broom from the shock and fell into the deep sea somewhere over the English Channel, never to be recovered.

Three other agents- Volant, Gage, and one of the Travers clan, were also casualties in the encounter with those rebels. _Brutal,_ Roux thought. These people were not to be trifled with.

Minister Bartholomé Bertrand had come out of the mind-altering curse that Alexis set upon him. When Roux saw that Bertrand was recovering his wits and his eloquent and poised manner of speech, pestering Roux with questions, the officer knew something was wrong. The caster of the curse must have ceased to be. And when Roux searched for Alexis' whereabouts and fate, his oracle did not lie.

Roux recalled being forced to take a class long ago, when he had to read about _Sans-Magies_ of the past, the old history of their societies and how it paralleled the Enchanteds in nearly every way. He was reminded of similarities between the story of Julius Caesar of ancient times, and what Sauvageon had planned. Alexis, in his arrogance, wanted to be the Brutus figure and topple the crown.

Now, Roux hoped to continue casting the mind curses on his 'Lord' indefinitely, but he would have to hurry and do it correctly this moment. Perhaps the old man needed something more finalized than just having his mind turned into that of a young child's...

Roux entered Bertrand's office. He found the bald-pated wizard alone, furiously writing with a quill and parchment. Roux immediately dropped to his knees and bowed his head to the carpet as usual.

"Good morning, my Lord Minister."

"As you must know, my betrayer is dead."

"Betrayer?" Roux feigned innocence.

"_You were in on it!"_ the small old wizard raged, slamming his pen down and gripping his wand and Magic Mirror he kept on his desk. He pointed the wand at Roux threateningly. "You knew _exactly_ what he was doing! You mocked and humiliated me along with him. You supported Sauvageon's cursing my mind, and you both thought you could keep up the charade until he either killed me or deemed me unfit to rule! I trusted both of you, and _this_ is how you treat me?"

Roux sucked in a breath and decided to speak his mind.

"Sauvageon treated you much better than you treated my sister-in-law Madeleine. And as far as _Sans-Magies_ are concerned, I think we ought to learn from them, 'Lord Minister.' How they handle_ tyrants_, for one!"

He began to extend his hand to perform a deadly wandless attack- but he was too late.

Bertrand was silently saying the incantation of the death curse with his wand still pointed. A green beam shot from his wand into Roux's heart. Nicolas-Armitage Roux crumpled to the ground, still and lifeless.

Bertrand rose from his desk, took a second to kick the body, and demanded the Summons of every person in the building.

Within moments, every room, corridor, hall in _Le __Ministère _headquarters was filled with the magically-amplified sound of Bartholomé Bertrand's gentle, fatherly voice. The gigantic image of his bug-eyed homely face appeared on every wall to be seen.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my friends. _Je suis désolé._ I am incredibly saddened to inform you that there was an attempt to depose me. Traitors are in our midst. I am now locking the doors from the outside as we speak. Please listen to my directions."

In the great open atrium of the building, a large crowd of agents, workers, visiting wizards and enchantresses loyal to _Le __Ministère_'_s_ new order milled about. They flinched at the sound of door bolts slamming and clicking. All four double doors in the foyer were sealed shut. Bertrand's face loomed large, projected upon the foyer's west wall.

"I ask all of you to form a queue and walk in a single file up here, to the fifth floor, where I shall receive you and greet you individually. I shall then ask that you touch my wand to prove your allegiance. Anyone who is a traitor will feel the wand to be as hot as fire, as I have set it with a Loyalty charm. If that happens, my friends, or shall I say _enemies_...I will decide your fate. That fate will be death, the manner up to me. Decide _now_ to pledge your devotion. If you are not a French citizen, if you are foreign, it does not matter. You pledge to _me_. There is no turning back."

The people- mostly men, and a few enchantresses in elegant full skirted gowns, obeyed and started to form a line. The wizards and enchantresses nearest the grand staircase began to walk up.

For minutes afterward the line progressed. People ascended the staircases, joined by countless others on the higher floors of the palatial building. The great atrium floor plan of _Le __Ministère_ allowed all to see the movements of the crowds, and Bertrand's face was projected here and there- visible on every level like an all-knowing god.

When the first people in line reached the fifth floor, they proceeded into the hallway that led directly to Bertrand's office.

Most of the people were calm and assured, happy to rid their leader of traitors. They were behind their Lord Minister all the way, the fatherly man who would purge France and the Enchanted World of undesirables, once and for all.

...

Among the people walking soberly in line was a wizard named Jerome Roux, the younger brother of Nicolas. His wife Madeleine was one of the '_Sang-Sales'_ whom Bertrand had ordered to be slowly starved in prison.

A week before, his wife took ill in her glass cell in _La Maison de Crimes Noirs_ and died. Jerome, a quiet fellow and good worker, was forgiven of wrongdoing for having a '_Sang-Sale'_ wife. He was allowed to keep his respectable job at the Ministry, working in the Department of the Control of Enchanted Creatures.

As the crowd wound up the staircases to the second level in the atrium, Jerome slipped a hand in his coat pocket. He quietly pulled out his Magic Mirror.

"What are you doing?" whispered the man lined up in front of him.

"I must keep on my assignment, Armand," Jerome replied in a soft tone. "There's been a report of uncontrolled dragons not far from the city. A matter that cannot wait. _Excusez-moi,_ I will keep my voice low."

"Very well, then," said the man named Armand, turning back to face the people in the queue before him, then turning his gaze to one of the unescapable, projected images of Bertrand's looming face. He was eerily smiling, mouthing people's names, but his voice was now unamplified.

"My brother," Jerome whispered, turning his body to a wall so no one nearby could see the glowing image in his Mirror.

He let out a quiet intake of breath when he saw Nicolas' pale face and crumpled body on the floor of Bertrand's office.

He whispered the spell to take away that image, and decided this was the best moment to use his Mirror to contact someone on the outside. As he'd told Armand, he _was_ still working, of course. Dealing with the control and movements of dragons.

"_Desjardins!"_ he commanded into his Mirror.

The face of a blue-eyed man named Claude Desjardins formed in Jerome's Mirror, responding to the call with a just-barely-audible "_Allo?"_

"_Dragon Fire,_" Jerome said to the Mirror.

"_Oui. Feu du Dragon," _Desjardins replied with a nod.

Jerome Roux sighed sadly as he put the Mirror back into his pocket. He would have to secretly grieve for his brother and for Madeleine.

The great atrium, staircases and corridors of the Ministry headquarters were almost completely silent, though people continued to file slowly upstairs. A few began to come down from the top floor. They'd already greeted Minister Bertrand; touched his wand to prove their loyalty.

The quiet was broken when cries and horrified screams were heard from the fifth floor. Jerome and his nearby companion, Armand, shuddered.

Bertrand had identified the first disloyal person forced to touch his wand and executed them on the spot. People became more unnerved, each wondering if their hearts were with their leader or not.

Jerome kept his eyes on the high sunroof window. He could see something descending from the sky. He ducked away from the stair railing to the inner wall.

The glass ceiling exploded.

A great, winged, coral pink and scarlet dragon burst into the atrium. It snarled and whipped its tail before breathing jets of flame over the top level of the building. Smoke and people's screams filled the air.

The multiple images of Minister Bertrand's face disintegrated, marking the very moment when the dictator perished.

Broken glass shards rained down, injuring those who happened to stand in the dragon's path. After incinerating the upper floor, the dragon descended, wings spread wide until it landed on the bottom floor. A man was riding upon it.

...

"_E.R.A!"_ shouted the man astride the dragon, his voice magically amplified.

He was a young man in his mid-twenties, wearing a protective breastplate and black cloak. He rode the dragon by gripping the edge of one of her scales, gracefully bucking to her movements as if she were a wild stallion horse.

"Listen to me!" he announced. "My name is Andre Tomas Rosier, of the Pureblood Rosier clan! The Enchanted Rebel Army of France invites you all to support freedom, or perish!"

The crowd screamed again as two more dragons, bearing human riders, flew through the gaping hole in the ceiling. They descended and landed next to the bright-colored one ridden by Monsieur Rosier.

The rider of the olive-green dragon was a man named Claude Desjardins, a talented dragon handler. When Jerome called from a Mirror, he'd given him, Rosier, and their two companions the signal to ambush _Le __Ministère._

Desjardins, a _Sans-Magie_ born wizard, happened to have a late sister- Madeleine Roux, _nee_ Desjardins. She was the Madeleine who died in prison, the reason Jerome Roux decided to conspire with them.

Andre Rosier and Claude Desjardins were longtime friends of Marcel Clement.

Marcel was in communication with both men that morning. It wasn't until Andre proved he was with Claude and the dragons that Marcel believed he was loyal.

...

People trembled and begged for mercy while another fire-breathing dragon flew in.

The third dragon was a long-necked golden creature. It held two riders side by side, both wearing protective armor and gripping a harness attached to its back. One was a beautiful blonde woman. The other was a lanky, youthful fellow with long dark hair. The madly lashing creature, just like the first two, blew hot smoke through its nostrils at the frightened crowd.

The riders were Agathe and Aloysius. They'd put themselves under Age-Shifting spells to stay strong and agile, to endure the physical bone-jarring of their very first dragon flight.

The two had taken Marcel's coach to fly back across the English Channel into France once more. Their first stop was Claude Desjardins' secret dragon sanctuary in a dense forest. There, the four members of the E.R.A. waited for Jerome Roux's signal to take flight to Paris for the attack.

Agathe, who now appeared to be in her early twenties, pulled off her protective helmet and let her long golden hair fall loose, gazing with judgment at everyone.

"_It's Agathe Sauvageon!"_ a few people in the crowd mumbled, recognizing her from the newspaper articles and portraits from the past two years.

"_What is SHE doing here? Disgraceful!"_

"_The most lawless Enchantress in our age is here! Stop her!"_

_"What is Sebastien Rosier's son doing? The Rosiers are great purebloods! Why did HE join the traitors?"_

"_Someone curse them all to death!" _

But no one among the hundreds dared to lay a wand or finger on any of the dragon riders. Their 'Lord Minister' had just been turned into ash upstairs.

"You're being given a chance to surrender. Liberty and freedom is for everyone!" shouted Andre Rosier. His bright pink and scarlet dragon used its front horns to smash one of the locked doors open.

"We ask you all to stop this cruelty to your fellow wizards," Rosier continued. "Minette, are you here?" He glanced among the crowds, looking for his sister.

"Andre!" a young brunette woman cried, breaking away from the line and descending down a staircase, holding up the skirts of her voluminous green gown. Frightened, she huddled near others, keeping her distance from the dragons.

"I just want you to be safe, Minette. Are Corvus and Falco here?" Andre asked, referring to his sister's new husband, and his brother, a professional player for the _Faucons._

_"Non, _they are on a trip to Greece."

"Then when they return, I want you to tell them that things are going to change here in France, starting today," Andre said in a firm tone. "Remember, my dear sister- if you cannot find a path, make one."

Minette nodded tearfully. Andre turned his gaze from his sister, to everyone in the massive atrium.

"My allies and I will allow you to walk through this door in peace. If you continue this hate, trying to kill my friends just because of their blood and birth, you chose your own doom. Incidentally, my friend Mademoiselle Agathe here has the power to read into minds and hearts. She can transform you into beasts, rats, worms- even pieces of furniture- at her will. Mademoiselle, do you have anything to say?"

"Thank you, Monsieur Rosier," said Agathe, her voice amplified. The golden dragon lowered itself to the ground. Agathe and the young-looking Aloysius dismounted. "Please walk in single file past us, and out the door," said Agathe. "It is my hope that _all_ of you are able to leave this place with kind, unhateful hearts. I will be looking at each of you, giving you my judgment as you pass me. Please search your hearts, and choose peace."

"Walk in single file to the door, ladies and gentlemen!" Rosier commanded, gesturing to the group of people nearest the open door where Agathe now stood, waiting.

...

_A.N.- I hope you are handling things the best you can with the worry and changes to your lives because of that nasty coronavirus! Please stay healthy out there._

_And Easter Eggs! Nicolas' middle name was no random choice. It's in honor of a certain Heel-Face-Turn character in another fandom, who deserved better. ;) Check my profile favorites for some Star Wars fix-it fics if you wish. Another __Easter Egg- Some members of the Rosier family are good! I love the 'hero from an evil family' trope._


	27. Your Life Matters

Chapter 27- Your Life Matters

...

**A.N.- I apologize for not updating for so long. I'd lost my mojo when it came to writing lately. The pandemic, the quarantine, and finally all the turmoil in this world with current events. It's been really hard lately to get my heart into a 'Finish my crossover fantasy fanfiction story!' muse. **

**So, the only way I could come back to my characters is to throw a little sad REALITY into the fantasy. **

**I'm sorry this chapter has little to do with Beauty and the Beast, or with the Potterverse Wizarding World. The topic of racism is so heartbreaking to me. I live about three hours' drive from Minneapolis. The George Floyd tragedy is too close, it's practically in my own backyard. **

**It just happens that one of the heroes in this story is a Black man. Who lives in 18th century Europe, with the magical fantasy setting added to the 'real life' setting. An interracial romance (Marcel/Adelaide) in that time and place would have been hard to express without ugly reactions. Content warning for a scene of racism-driven violence. **

***BLACK LIVES MATTER!* **

…

"Marcel, please sit down, you're making me more nervous pacing around like that!" Adelaide sighed as he paced in circles in the sitting room of his mother's home.

"I can't, Adelaide! I wish Maman would just let me have access to her Mirror. Then at least I'd know if they're all right!"

When Agathe and Aloysius took Marcel's flying coach back to France to battle against _Le Ministère,_ Madame Sabine hid her Magic Mirror somewhere in her husband's workshop downstairs, using a locking spell that prevented Marcel from 'accessing' it magically.

"The reason she hid it from you is because if they're _not_ winning this battle, and you see them getting hurt, you'd try to find a way to go back there," Adelaide said to him in a gentle voice.

"I would," Marcel admitted. "Whether it be searching for an old broom, or finding Enchanted people here in London to help me get back. I feel helpless here, Adelaide."

He gave her a pitiable look, but Adelaide- more concerned for her love's safety- shook her head.

"Agathe and Aloysius know what they're doing. And _you_ said you trusted your friend- this Andre fellow- to be your ally. And that he had connections to dragon handlers. And that dragons were the secret weapon they can use against _Le _Ministère_. _So just wait!" she argued.

"Do you know how terrifying dragons are, my love? Have you ever _seen_ one?"

Adelaide looked away from him and tried to stifle a giggle. "Of course, Marcel. I lived with dragons all the time! My Maman used little ones to light up our fireplaces and stoves."

"Adelaide, I'm _serious!_" Marcel shouted.

She covered her face with her hands and burst into laughter. As a _Sans-Magie,_ she'd never believed dragons existed. In fact, she wasn't quite sure she even believed in them yet. When she looked back to her fiance he was storming out the door, a hurt and angry expression on his face.

Feeling a surge of guilt, she followed him.

…

Marcel walked aimlessly down the busy neighborhood with the idea in his mind that he would somehow find fellow Enchanted folk nearby. He scanned the faces of passersby. Amongst strangers he honestly had no idea how to tell a _Sans-Magie_ from a wizard without the use of a wand or Mirror, both of which he lacked.

Realizing he had no clue what he was doing or where he was going, he decided to go back to find his mother and consult with her about his need to search for a wandmaker. After all, he was not in France, and therefore not under _Le Ministère _persecution for the moment. There was nothing preventing him from finding someone to supply him with a new wand and Magic Mirror. At least the former; the latter he couldn't afford yet.

He was walking back towards his mother's home when he saw Adelaide bustling toward him.

"You're about to do something crazy and I won't let you!" she called out.

"Adelaide…"

She quickened her pace and they collided, Adelaide throwing her arms lovingly around his shoulders.

Just then, Marcel was aware of many eyes upon the both of them. _Sans-Magies_, strangers. He pulled away from her rather than returning her embrace.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" She reached out to grasp his hand.

"Adelaide, _don't!_ They…"

Once more, Marcel remembered the unpleasant fact that whenever he was among _Sans-Magies_ in public_,_ and all of them happened to be pale-skinned, he stood out as different. And just like in France, he was assumed to be a slave.

"_How dare you touch her!"_ a man roared in English.

Adelaide didn't understand much of what the men were saying, but within seconds a gang of three or four men rushed to Marcel and knocked him to the ground. One of them threw back his fist and punched him in the face, drawing blood.

She knew little English, had no way to tell them to stop. She rushed to the man beating up her beloved and tried to pull him away by the shoulders.

Another man grabbed her from behind and pulled her away from the scuffle. "It is alright, dear. He is getting his just punishments. We will protect your honor!"

"_Arrêtez! S'il vous plaît!" _she cried in French, tears blurring her vision. They didn't let up on their beating. They were about to kill him! Why wasn't he stopping them with magic?

"Ahh, a French lady, are you?" the man still holding her back said with a laugh. "They're taking care of this for you, don't you worry!"

Blood trickled from Marcel's nose as he tried to fend off their blows. Adelaide sobbed. "_Utilisez votre magie!"_ she begged. He was certainly capable of using his magic to fight them off.

She threw back her elbow to strike the man behind her. With a grunt, he loosened his grip on her. She rushed forward and grabbed the arm of the man who was still landing punches on Marcel. He looked powerless now, this warrior wizard who saved her life in a fierce battle in one world- but wouldn't save himself in the other.

Anger and desperation took over Adelaide. She found herself clutching the man's arm with both her hands. She tugged down the sleeve of his loose blouse. She clawed and pinched the hairy skin of his forearm with her nails.

"_Ye bloody crazy woman!"_ he roared, nudging her in the hip with his overpowering elbow. The layers of fabric from her skirt and petticoats shielded her from any hurt. At least she stopped him from pummeling Marcel. Her efforts were in vain, however, as the other man took over and started to drag Marcel by his arms. A third man took over and yanked him to a kneeling position.

Marcel made no sound. He seemed to be losing consciousness, his face and blouse soaked with blood.

The first man shoved Adelaide aside, paying no heed to her sobbing protests.

"_Anybody care to fetch a rope? Let's string 'im up!" _

"_No!_" Adelaide screamed in English. Though she could not understand the language, she knew for a fact that the angry mob was planning to execute the man she loved.

…

Robert Lefebrve and Toulouse Granger were heading up the street, returning from a meeting with London Enchanters inside a secret brewery pub. The small watering hole was known as 'Ye Olde Ale House,' the name carved on the front shingle.

The place was a _Sans-Magie_ pub for the uninformed, yet a secret door to the back opened to an additional chamber room. An English Enchantress named Hortensia Fawley worked there, stirring her cauldrons and selling her stock. Toulouse and Robert had just bought several vials upon Sabine's request.

"This should be plenty enough for a while," said Robert, shouldering the satchel containing the potions.

"Yes," said Toulouse. "It's good that she told us where to find the wandmaker. You and Marcel need to see him straight away. It's _imperative _that the two of you acquire new wands before you even _think_ of setting foot in France again. Victory or no victory!"

Robert nodded, vocalizing something between a grunt and an affirmative hum.

"You don't seem very enthusiastic today," Toulouse said to his hulking friend.

"I'm no longer a favorite of the ladies," grumbled Robert. "That potion mistress and her pretty daughter both seemed to have eyes for _you,_ while ignoring _me_."

Toulouse scoffed. "Both of those Enchantresses were exceedingly friendly to me because they fancied making a sale. And _furthermore_\- which one of us is a fluent English speaker?"

"You," Robert replied. He heard shouting and yelling down the street, and noticed what looked like a scuffle or fight. "What the hell's going on over there?"

The two picked up their speed. They couldn't believe their eyes when they saw what, and who, was involved.

"_Marcel!"_ Robert bellowed. He ran to the men holding his friend and hurled his fist directly into the nose of one. The man collapsed with a whimper. Robert grabbed Marcel's semi-conscious and bleeding form.

"Robert! Toulouse! Help him!" Adelaide screamed in French.

"What are you _doing_ to this innocent man?" Toulouse demanded.

"He was touching this fair lady! Nothing innocent about that!" replied a stout man with a tricorne hat pulled low over his angry eyes. "Whoever's slave he is, that fellow's about to be one servant short! This one deserves the _noose!" _

"_No!_" Adelaide screamed, rushing to Marcel's side and crying openly.

Toulouse's shocked expression twisted into horror and rage. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.

"This man is MY servant!" he spat. Toulouse gave Robert and Adelaide a look of warning as if to say, '_Shut up and play along.' _He mumbled something out of his breath while his hand dipped into the pocket of his coat.

"Your scoundrel of a slave boy is about to die!" the stout man raged.

That moment, a swarm of bees seemed to appear out of nowhere. With a loud and threatening buzz, they alighted upon each member of the angry mob. Men screamed as they were stung, flailing their arms and falling to the ground, where they rolled in agony.

Robert carefully picked up the severely injured and battered young man, tears welling in his eyes. _Not again,_ he thought. He wasn't sure whether Marcel Clement was a man who either actively went looking for trouble, or if he was a magnet for trouble to find him. It now seemed as if it were the latter.

…

Madame Sabine could not control her emotion as she tried her best to heal the cuts, lacerations and bruises that covered her son. She used the same healing spells with her wand as she'd performed back at the fountain pool at _Le Ministère, _but they didn't have the same immediate and full effect at healing non-magical injuries.

"I'm putting him under sleep for the rest...of the day...and into the night," she sobbed. "How could he be so foolish? I've taught him all his life to be careful around all of the European _Sans-Magies,_ to obey them and keep an air of humility and servitude about himself!"

"But that's so unjust! Why?" Adelaide said. "He didn't do anything wrong. I started to hug him, and-"

"You showed your affection and hugged him in _public_? On the streets of this city?" Sabine turned to her with a bitter and angry expression that made Adelaide wither in shame.

"Yes…"

"How naive and foolish _are_ you? You're a _Sans-Magie, _and you should _know_ by now that people who look like Marcel, and like me, are in danger of getting killed or beaten on sight!"

"I'm _sorry!_" she cried in remorse, yet she tearfully tried to defend herself from the woman's accusations that what happened to Marcel was _her_ fault.

"I...I don't notice or care about people's skin color. I never thought about it! I was a servant maid myself. My family was poor. White, but poor. No one we knew owned African servants, and I wasn't even _aware_ that they are enslaved and not paid! Not until that one day when Monique and I were out in Paris, and a man was cruel to her!"

Madame Sabine scowled. "Well now you _know!_ I hope you've learned your lesson about the _real world_ you were raised in!"

She stood up and bustled out of the bedroom, leaving Adelaide alone next to the bed where her beloved fiance slept, his face covered in bandages.

"I'm so, so sorry," she whispered in misery. She leaned down and kissed the dark hair on top of his head. It wasn't fair. During the past year he had been imprisoned, abused, injured, and almost killed more times than she could count. Targeted for death in both societies. Accepted by neither.

"I love you," she whispered. "We'll make it through all this."

…

Sabine went down to the furniture shop downstairs to visit her husband, Hami-Daniel, where he was sanding the edges of a new table. She told him all about Marcel's attack.

"This is why we have to keep up a lie, darling!" she said. "I don't want what almost happened to my son, to happen to _you._ I know you don't like having outsiders believe you are Edouard's servant, and not the talented man behind this shop that ought to be credited as yours. Not Edouard's business, just because he is a white man. Or that Celeste has to pretend that Edouard is not her own husband when she leaves this building!"

"Sabine, love… we don't _have_ to live in this city. We can all pack up and move on to a small, quiet village," Hami-Daniel said quietly after listening. "Anywhere could be safer than this."

"Nowhere is safe," she replied sadly. "Enchanters. _Sans-Magies_. Both peoples have their cruel murderers among them. I'm _tired,_ darling. I want to stop running. All my life...ever since Philippe took me away from my homeland when I was eighteen, I've been running away."

"But love, there are also _good_ people among them."

"Perhaps," she said. A tapping came against the window then, and Sabine opened the shutters to greet the fluttering wings of a little owl. The bird let go of a rolled-up piece of paper.

"A message! Perhaps it's from Agathe and Aloysius and the rest of the Resistance in France!"

She started to untie the red ribbon from the scroll and saw that it was addressed not to her, but to her sister Celeste and to Edouard. She immediately went back up into the kitchen and found her sister and brother-in-law relaxing with cups of tea, reading the Enchanted London newspaper.

"An owl brought a letter for the two of you!" she said, giving them the scroll.

Edouard used a flick of his hand to magically cut the ribbon. "It's from Monique!" he said with relief. "She...says she's happy. She was put into the school division she hoped for, and made some new friends already. Her first day of class she transformed a worm into a kitten...she said to make sure we tell Marcel about that."

"We certainly will tell him...as soon as he recovers, the poor dear," said Celeste. "I wish every place could be as beautiful and magical as the Enchanted schools."

The family members' expressions softened as Celeste poured them some more tea, all of them glad to hear a little good news for the day.

Upstairs, Marcel slept under his mother's sedating spell, his cuts and wounds healing. Odd and disturbing dreams entered his consciousness. He revisited Alexis Sauvageon in his old office with the crystal ball. Alexis, with the old arrogant smirk, playing with that crystal ball. In the dream he showed Marcel more scenes of doom and trouble in the world- _both_ worlds. Wars in every nation would continue. More haunting images.

Men firing cannons into a crowd of other men across a field in springtime; the wildflowers and grasses becoming soaked with blood. Flying machines raining explosions upon a city- _London, you say? _A line of women and children being herded into an ugly building. _Why am I being shown a chimney billowing black smoke now, Alexis, _mon ami? _This makes no sense to me..._

Prejudice and oppression would continue, it seemed. Three dark-skinned men, hanging by their necks together on a lamp post in a city street while crowds jeered all around them. _Alexis- why are they dark-skinned like me and my family, while the crowd is made of all light-skinned people? Is it just because they are dark that this is happening?_ _Monsieur Sauvageon, this crystal ball makes no sense!_

Angry crowds breaking windows of shops. People dressed in armored suits, firing clouds of gas at other, unarmed people.

He started to wake; his head and nose throbbed from the pain of the beating. It was still pitch dark in the room. Relief came when he fell back to sleep.

Towards morning, Marcel dreamed he was flying a broom, playing _Boule de Plume. _The little golden ball glistened in the moonlight as it sped away, rising higher. He forced the broom to soar higher, reaching and stretching to touch the magical object, but he could not catch it.

…

The late morning sun finally brought him to full consciousness. He felt someone touch his hand and slip something into it. A smooth, cool metallic ball, with delicate feathers attached. The feathers began to flutter, tickling his palm and fingers. He squeezed it; a familiar feeling of triumph and victory came over him. He opened his eyes and saw Adelaide, her sweet face framed by soft tousled waves of brown hair.

"Adelaide..." Despite his cracking voice and the dull throbs of pain, he couldn't help a smile pulling at his lips. Her hazel green eyes were bloodshot from a night of crying, but a smile of her own had broken through.

"Marcel- we _won_!"

"_What?"_

"Agathe and Aloysius are back! The dragon attack on _Le Ministère _succeeded! Bertrand is dead! Andre Rosier is taking control of Enchanted France, he's demanding peace between all wizards!"

"Yes…" he whispered, closing his eyes. "Thank you for telling me. I had a rough day yesterday."

"Rough day? That's an understatement. It was _terrible_ what they did to you! They deserved Toulouse's bee curse. Are you feeling better?"

Marcel paused to collect his thoughts. The battle for Enchanted France was won. He ought to be ecstatic about his friends being victorious. But he was not.

"Perhaps a little better."

Her smile faded; she bent down to kiss the part of his cheek not covered by a linen bandage. "What can I do to help you feel better?"

"Marry me as soon as I get my energy back. And let me take you back home."

"I will. I love you."

He glanced at the _Boule de Plume_ which she'd slipped into his hand. "Was this one that Maman kept from my old games? What made you think of giving it to me?"

"I just...I had the urge to give it to you when I saw it on a hutch cabinet. After Agathe and Aloysius returned. Would you like them to come speak to you? Do you want me to get you a cup of tea or something?"

He nodded. "Sure...Adelaide?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" She turned back around just as she began to walk out of his room. Her dress today was red and white striped, like sweet peppermint candy.

"Remember that day when I told Sauvageon I wanted to leave the Enchanted world and live among _Sans-Magies_ instead? I think I changed my mind."

"I don't blame you after yesterday."

"I can't live in either, it seems," he said sadly.

"Well, you must chose one to live in. Or, just like me, live a little in both." Adelaide tried to coax a smile with her tone of humor, but it feel flat. He looked morose, his brow knit in hurt and anger, and pain.

"I _want_ to be happy about the defeat of the Minister's regime, but I know that things will never get better. And I mean the whole _world._ For ages."

"Things will _never_ get better completely. Cruel people will always exist. I'm sorry."

"In both worlds...it seems like my life doesn't matter."

"Don't say that!" Adelaide replied. "Of _course_ it matters. You were a great warrior. You did so many things to fight for the freedom of Magical folk! You were brave, clever, strong, and-"

"I'm not talking about what I did or what I will _do_. I'm talking about who I _am._" His eyes began to sting with the threat of tears.

Adelaide knelt down and embraced him, resting her head on his chest.

"Who you are...is the love of my life! And because of that, your life matters. And it will matter to our children someday. And _their_ lives will matter."

"I want to meet those children of ours, starting next year," said Marcel. Joy and peace began to rise anew in his heart. Adelaide raised her head to place her lips upon his. He took her in his arms, vowing to never let her go for the rest of his living days.

...


End file.
